Everybody Wants You
by Gene Kelly
Summary: I'm on the verge, unraveling with every word you say.[JamesLily] [Slightly AUish]
1. Welcome To Chaos

Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it?

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A/N: Well. What can I say? First attempt at J/L. Slightly AU, due to writing the actual story before reading about recent developments concerning J/L's history. Hope you like it.

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I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him, that I was praying for trouble. Granted, he was disgustingly charming and stunningly handsome; classic jaw line and dazzling eyes like a rabbit caught in the visual path of a hungry predator. For a split second, you could find yourself falling, hopelessly and helplessly, without the slightest intentions of searching for a place to land. However, you were cured of your malady as soon as the bastard opened his mouth. It's a shame, really. What a waste. Don't let his flawless, outward appearance beguile you. Oh no, because underneath it all, behind the artfully mastered smile made of spun-sugar, is Lucifer himself.

James Potter has to be the rudest, most ego-centric, intolerable wizard or _human being_ I have ever encountered. Every word he utters drips with malicious distain, every sentence he crafts is only intended to show off his false superiority and shoot a bullet through your heart. He is stylishly cunning and quick to anger; a person would have to be insane to desire his wrath. Potter is exactly the type of person I loathe, the type of person that _literally_ requires a bit of knocking sense into. If his head gets any bigger, he won't be able to fit through the Common Room door.

Unfortunately, my Mum decided that he was the perfect match for me, that we were truly soul mates or some crap of that caliber. Time and time again, I attempted to convince her that common sense has abandoned her; that anyone with two eyes could see that the compatibility of James Potter and I are just like mixing vinegar and water.

We were about two years old when we were first introduced. Our Mothers had suddenly become lifelong friends and forced us to play together. Mum placed me in the sandbox next to James, I took one look at his smug features and the next moment, before I could help myself, Potter was eating a mouthful of gritty sand. To tell you the absolute truth, it felt wonderful; **exhilarating** in fact.

On the contrary, my Mum did not view this incident as a prime example of our hatred, but decided that we simply needed time to "warm up to one another." Oh, dear old Mum. I guess it's true what the say with the passing of age; as your youth decays, so does your sensibility.

The proceeding years of our lives consisted of despised and constant intertwining arrangements, which both our Mothers connived out of methods of madness. Surprisingly, the encounters would always consist of the following layout: Potty-Mouthed Potter would generate some witty yet completely vulgar remark; I would shoot back with an icy countenance, Potty would throw me one of his annoyinglydevilish smirks and thus, I would lose my patience, curses flying out of my mouth a mile a minute.

Dear God, to think what my Mum would say if she ever heard the language that spilled from my tongue. Sadly, she probably would hear the first syllables, and then fall to the floor with shock and horror.

As childhood evolved into adolescence, Potty started to realize that I was, in fact, a _girl_ and decided that since he was a boy, he should initiate our notorious leap into unwanted puberty and therefore, try to slobber all over my face in what would be classified as a _kiss._ I quickly learned to defend myself against such sexual assault; I've developed hyper-sensitive listening skills to note when Potter is leering in some darkened corner.

Fast forward to seventh year. Potty and I are still at each other's throats, our Mums still firmly believe that we'd make the most precious couple and I'm trying to deal with the fact that even though I'm dating Sirius Black, Potty's left wingman, big man on campus and Hogwart's resident Bad Boy, I'm starting to appreciate how irresistible James Potter _really _is.

Shit. Did I just say that aloud?


	2. Fire And Ice

Disclaimer: Sadly, I'm just a broke high school student with too much time on her hands.

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A/N: Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Thank you so muchfor the positive responses for this story! It's really encouraging! However, it says that I got 101 hits alone JUST for chapter one. And yet...only 14 people reviewed. I may suck at math, but I know that equation doesn't add up correctly! Haha. So all you other people out there...don't be shy...**_PLEASE REVIEW!_** I love reviews! They make me smile. :) 

Eternalhope08: Although this story will follow, in a sense, the basic plot line/outline of P&P, it'll be set during Hogwarts, formulated by the clues/hints/information that have been presented so far in the books by Rowling. And thanks for your review!

Sweet Sarcasm: Yeah, that's one of the reasons why I've been afraid to even start a J&L story, because just about every crazy plot twist under the sun has been applied to these two. I hope I don't disappoint you too badly, lol. No, I haven't started posting at the Unknowable Room, though I've been meaning to get around to it. And thank you for the review!

A big thanks to: AmazinglyMe, True Slytherin Witch, DOJ, ebonyquill, angelface04, lily and james xoxo, watersprite87, SnowflakeGinny, HarryluvsMoaningMyrtle, Jewels, EmpressMaryLee and last but certainly not least, vampirehunterD-lover.

Xoxo

_gene_

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It was a bright and beautiful morning. The sun was brilliantly blazing like an orange comet, the birds were singing sweet songs of optimistic delight and my sister, Petunia Evans, was screaming **bloody murder **right into my face. Yes indeed, it was just another normal morning in the Evans household. Today marked the official and unfortunate end of summer, but the beginning of a much anticipated year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

To the absolute glee of my parents and myself included, I was named Head Girl over the summer. My mother nearly wet her pants silly when I opened the envelope and out fell the badge. My father made a mad dash for the camera and started snapping away. Petunia, on the other hand, turned her skinny nose into the air, nearly scraping the ceiling, and flounced out of the room.

Petunia, as far as my knowledge, lacks a drop of any resemblance of magical powers and fiercely clings to the ignorant and foolish notion that I'm a sort of spawn of evil. The very moment my family discovered I was, in fact, a witch, Petunia practically had a nervous breakdown, proclaiming that I was a "freak."

For the next few weeks, she walked around the house adorned in hospital scrubs, booties and a surgical mask. When I requested a brief explanation as to her peculiar behavior, she snarled with the lividness of a rabid dog, "You think I want to be a freak, too? Ha! For all we know, your little disease could be contagious!"

At first, I was deeply distressed that my own sister would turn against me. I didn't understand her twisted logic. I was still the same, old Lily Evans. I hadn't transformed into a violent monster. I attempted to reconcile with Petunia and regain her trust and respect, but my efforts were in vain. If we came within a two feet proximity of one another, my darling sister would race out of the room with such haste, that one would believe that an ax murder were threatening to cut her throat.

However, I as grew older, I finally accepted the fact that Petunia was too blinded by her bigotry and fear to overcome it. It was shocking, because during the incipient stages of our lives, Petunia and I had been considerably close. Once we discovered my magical abilities, it was as though I were a stranger. Granted, I guess I've never _really_ conquered the somber knowledge that my own sister treats me as though I have the black plague, but I'm determined not to dwell on it.

On that specific day, I assumed that I had overslept, due to Petunia's unnecessary screeches, dictating that "it was past 7:30 and I had better get my lazy, freakish arse out of the bed if I didn't want to miss the crazy train."

After successfully getting Petunia to shut her mouth, I quickly showered, brushed my teeth, changed and then swept my scarlet hair into the messiest ponytail known to mankind. Luckily, my trunk had been packed the night before; I clattered down the stairs, trunk clobbering behind me, and my owl cage in my free hand. As customary, Petunia had refrained from joining the rest of the family at the train station.

However, let's just say I wasn't about to go cry in a corner. Half an hour later, we were at King's Cross. Since both of my parents are muggles, they couldn't go through the barrier to see the train. My Mum, as if on cue, held back swollen tears and nearly refused to let go, her grip close to total suffocation. My Dad ruffled my hair and planted an affectionate kiss on my forehead. Their farewells were dotted with the usual parental lectures _(be a good girl, don't get into any trouble)_, the standard verses of motherly and fatherly affection and finally, my Mum's annoyingly sincere recommendations to befriend Potter.

A split second later, I was standing on the platform, fondly gazing at the magnificent Hogwarts Express. It was a little hard to believe that in a year, my life would totally be flipped on its head. I would forever leave behind the comforting walls of Hogwarts and be thrust into the "real world." Fortunately, I didn't have much time to brood, because my thoughts were severely broken by the excited squeals of my best friend and partner in crime, Audrey Grant. She flew towards me, a blurred image of a mocha colored mane and an overwhelming amiable smile. Before I could brace myself, she leaped into my arms and squeezed me.

Audrey and I first established our friendship way back in first year, when Mark Rogers, the world's youngest pervert, wouldn't stop staring at my chest during Charms. I repeatedly hissed vulgar threats of bodily dismemberment and harm, but somehow, I don't think he was intimidated by a five foot nothing, freckle-faced girl.

Audrey, who was sitting behind me and had witnessed the entire spectacle, came to my rescue. She muttered something and as soon as the words left her lips, Mark's robes had vanished and transformed into a diaper, blue bonnet and a pacifier. The entire class burst into laughter and from then on, Audrey and I were inseparable.

Ironically, Audrey and I are complete opposites. Although I've been known for my moments of witty genius, Audrey is outspoken and blunt; she's not afraid to tell you exactly what she thinks, whether or not you want to hear it. I would never classify Audrey as an idiot, but she doesn't approach school and grades with the same neurotic fortitude and tenacity as I do. I'm the kind of girl that would spend an entire Saturday getting lost in _Jane Eyre_, while Audrey would rather go shopping.

In addition to her wild child antics, Audrey's the unofficial boy magnet of Gryffindor. Half the time, she doesn't even try to attract the pathetically hopeless hormones of the opposite sex. They just flock to her like elderly house wives to a one-day sale. With her long, wavy, dark hair, huge, doe-eyes, unyielding tan and curvy body, you can practically see the drool of her admirers. I confess, sometimes it's quite dangerous and depressing to one's self-esteem to be in the shadow of such a larger-than-life person, but I've never let my moments of self-criticism affect my good graces of Audrey.

"Lily! It feels like **ages** since I last saw you!" my best friend squealed.

We pulled back and I laughed, never tired of Audrey's bubbly personality.

"I saw you three days ago. But I guess in Audrey speak, that's about three years ago," I teased.

Audrey rolled her eyes, though still grinning like a loon.

"Three days is three days too long. C'mon, come with me to get my trunks and then we'll snag a seat on the train."

I dutifully followed Audrey, watched her collect her belongings and then the both of us made our way onto the train. I had a few minutes to spare before I had to meet up with Nathan Hawthorne, Gryffindor's Head Boy.

"Your Mum and Dad in the crowd?" I wondered, as we rolled our trunks down the aisle.

She nodded, peering into random compartments.

"Yeah. I had to escape Mum's insistence upon wasting another roll of film. She'd already gone through three before we'd left the house. Oi, look, here's a free compartment!"

We shoved our way into the compartment, leaving the door open, just in case we spotted any of our other friends. Audrey stuffed our trunks onto the rack and we settled across from one another.

"I was in such a funk this morning. Petunia nearly blew out my eardrums, yelling in my face and all. The only thing that could take the cake, is if Potty slithers by and tries to win my nonexistent affections," I seethed.

Audrey laughed.

"Oh Lil, don't let Old Weedy get the best of you. She's just jealous that you're gorgeous and don't resemble a malnutritioned horse. And as for Potter, I haven't seen him or the other Three Stooges."

When I had told Audrey all about the horrors of living with my sister, she'd christened her with the nickname "Weed Girl," in attempts to mock the floral connotation that was chained to the name _Petunia_. In recent years, Weed Girl had evolved into Weeds and as of lately, Weedy.

I sighed, absentmindedly gazing at the window. The train bellowed one last whistle and parents began frantically waving to their departing children. I was nearly eighteen years old and my Mum was still possessed by the horrifying image that I would become Mrs. James Potter.

It made me want to vomit just thinking about it. In fact, before I had rushed through the barrier, she had told me to tell James she said "hello." I had crinkled my nose in disgust and spat out, "Mother. Honestly. James and I only go to school together. We **don't** speak."

"Thank Merlin for that."

Audrey laughed once more, fiddling around in the pocket of her jeans for a tube of lip gloss.

"I take it your Mum's still salivating over the Evans/Potter nuptials?"

I scowled.

"Unfortunately, yes. I wouldn't be surprised if my graduation gift turned out to be a wedding dress. It seems the older I get, the loonier my mum gets. Dad on the other hand, he tries to stay out of the whole wedding business. Sometimes I wish he were one of those overprotective dads; the ones that couldn't bear the thought of their daughter ever dating. Maybe then Mum would stop gushing about Potty," I wistfully fantasized.

Audrey snorted, having found the lip gloss and began applying it to her already shiny mouth.

"Be careful what you wish for. On my first date, my dad answered the door with a frown and a rifle."

I couldn't help but crack up.

"You know Lily, if it weren't for that whole ego deal, James wouldn't be so bad," my best friend babbled.

I immediately stopped laughing, my ecstatic grin automatically transforming into a cold glare. You see, even the mere **mention** of James and any chance of happiness is strangled. I knew that Audrey had been harboring a clandestine crush on Potty for months and frankly, she could have him! However, I succumbed to my irritation and began to remind her, with as many adjectives as humanly possible, why James Potter was a prat.

"Have you gone nutters? James Potter is the most egotistical, annoying, rude, pretentiously pompous-"

"Oi, Evans! Listing my most endearing personality traits, are you? I knew you'd miss me during the summer."

Suddenly, a dark cloud had descended upon our carriage, in the name of James Potter. Flanked by his cronies, James attempted to appear casually dashing, as he leaned against the door frame. His jet-black hair was purposely messy and falling all over the place, nearly covering his glasses.

He was wearing his trademark, devilish grin, his piercing eyes taking a split second to study Audrey. His wand was sticking out of his back pocket; probably so he could easily whip it out to jinx any unfortunate victim. It always takes a heavy amount of will power to refrain from the urge to roll my eyes at his wretched efforts to catch my attention.

On his left side was the ying to his yang, Sirius Black. His shaggy hair was nearly to his shoulders, his mouth curved into an equally disturbing smirk as Potty. However, unlike James, I could tolerate Sirius. In fact, unknown to even Audrey, I could _more_ than tolerate Sirius. Although the pair was both equally untouchable in the department of pranks, Sirius had this unexplainable _edge_ to him, which James lacked.

If someone uttered an ill word about him, Sirius was the type that would get into a fist fight, _(and most likely dominate),_ whereas James would probably hex the idiot. Sirius was tough, whereas James oozed with the well-acted _illusion _of toughness.

I mean, you know how the old saying goes; good girls can't help falling for bad boys. Seeing how Sirius was constantly on the run from Filch and owned a record of detentions longer than the letters of his full name, he was as bad as this good girl could get. Not that I minded or anything.

On the right side of Potty, stood Remus Lupin, the only sensible one of the group. With his keenly observant eyes and inviting smile, I had always been baffled as to why a bloke of the likes of Remus would ever feel the need to befriend Sirius and Potty. Remus was highly intelligent and I knew, without a doubt, that he would have been named Head Boy, if he had not been meddling around with Potty and Co. all these years.

Remus was caring, open-minded, hospitable, soft-spoken and conversational- everything James could never be. In fact, a precise incident had solidified our friendship. It was fourth year and I was rushing to get to Potions. It had poured earlier that day and the castle floors were littered with puddles from people's shoes.

Unfortunately, I slipped on a wet spot and soared through the air, along with my books. I suppose Remus was nearby, because out of nowhere, his outstretched hand offered to help me stand up. We'd been friends ever since. Granted, we were never as close as Audrey and I, but if I ever needed a shoulder to cry on, I somehow knew I could fully depend on Remus.

Standing slightly to the back of the three boys was Peter Petigrew, the last delinquent of Potty and Company. Peter was friendly and eager to please. I felt that he looked up to James with an unbalanced mixture of admiration, worship and respect. Sadly, I was often crossed with the image of a whipped puppy at the sight of Peter, who could always be seen tagging after Remus, Sirius and James. There was nothing really wicked or atrocious that the student body could say against Peter, with the exception of his tendency to follow, rather than lead.

"Actually Potty, it was rather refreshing to _not_ be greeted with the sight of your vile face every morning. I should be quite mad to ever think that I'd ever miss your hideous sneer," I tartly snapped.

Audrey's eyes bounced back and forth between the two of us, as though it were a riveting Wizard's Duel. Sirius chuckled and Peter's watery eyes instantly fixed upon James, anxiously waiting to see what verbal abuse would fly out of his idol's mouth. Remus, on the other hand, appeared absolutely bored.

James put his hand to his heart, _(if he HAD one)_ and moaned with false agony.

"Oh Evans, it saddens me to hear you say such blasphemous attacks upon my character. Did you ever get the letters I sent you? You never replied back."

I had to laugh at that. As soon as school had ended, my house was assaulted on a daily basis by a team of owls, all carrying letters from Potty. Pretty soon, I had to keep my windows locked, despite the sweltering heat. Eventually, the owls stopped coming when James got it through his thick skull that I was doing my best to **ignore** his attempt at correspondence.

"Oh, yes. I forget to thank you for those, Potter. They'll make _splendid _substitute fire wood for this winter."

At this, Sirius howled with laughter and even Remus and Audrey had to chuckle. The ability to laugh had escaped Peter, as he was too wrapped up in sheer excitement at the verbal sparring between James and me. He bounced on the balls of his toes, his eyes swelling with wonder. James allowed my remark to slide through one ear and out the other.

"You know Evans, you really should start listening to your Mum. I think we'd make an amazing couple."

Potter's eyes twinkled with friendly jest. Was he trying to make me vomit? Because if so, I'd gladly oblige to his wish.

"Yeah, amazingly disgusting. The day I ever **TOUCH **you is the day I'm shipped off to St. Mungo's. No, I'd rather date Severus **SNAPE** before I even _THOUGHT_ about kissing your slimy lips!" I frostily sneered.

Sirius lightly punched James in the shoulder, widely beaming. We locked eyes and I ignored the dancing ants in my stomach. I returned his smile, my head suddenly feeling a little light.

"Looks like you've got some competition, James," Hogwart's Resident Bad Boy observed.

James quickly darkened at the mention of Snape.

"Bugger off, Sirius. I can see you're in one of your _moods_, Evans, so I'll leave. But don't think this is over yet!" he vowed, with frighteningly fierce determination.

I rolled my eyes and Audrey's grin was so colossal, I thought it would fall off her heart-shaped face. James stalked off in a tizzy, probably to retreat to some dark corner and plot his vengeance against my witty victory. Peter scuffled after him, as fast as a Snitch. Remus smiled and waved goodbye, and I happily and willingly returned his gesture.

Surprisingly, Sirius had stayed behind. He was carelessly tossing his wand from hand to hand, slyly smiling at me. The dancing ants returned and stomped all over my tranquility and ease; I felt as though I were under a microscope.

"Have some last word to say, Black?" I demanded, though my tone lacked the menacing hostility I reserved solely for Potty.

He chuckled, caught his wand and then pushed a lock of hair out of his mesmerizing, blue eyes. Like a spell gone totally wrong, I couldn't stop staring.

"Now, now, no need to get malicious, Lily. I simply just wanted to congratulate you on your verbal triumph and hopefully make you reconsider about your dating selection."

I arched an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Yup. And if Ickle Snivellus is your first pick, then I'd have to say I'm deeply disappointed. Therefore, I just wanted to remind you to keep your options open."

I remained neutral, though the dancing ants had just started to spontaneously salsa.

"Really, Black. And why is that?"

He smiled that little smile again, as though he knew some juicy secret I couldn't possibly fathom.

"Because you never know what could happen during the course of a year."

With that, he winked and turned on his heel, whistling as he waltzed down the hall.

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A/N: Haha I love Witty!Lily. I'm trying to model her after Elizabeth Bennet in P&P, or at least my interpretation. I don't remember if J.K. said if James was ever Head Boy...but uh...for the purpose of this story, he's not. Haha. 


	3. Late Night Banter

**Disclaimer:** I'm seventeen, I'm still in school, I daydream way too much, I'm a hardcore geek and I'm obsessed with Robert Pattinson and Rupert Grint. Need I say more?

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**A/N:** More James/Lily banter. Dunno where the hell I'm going with this story, though I'm sure we'll all have great fun finding out! Haha.

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Although Nathan is without a doubt one of the nicest people I've ever encountered, he is, without a single doubt, the most boring wizard to ever grace Hogwarts. After we briefly discussed the duties and obligations that are entailed with the title of Head Girl/Head Boy, he commenced to animatedly provide a lengthy discourse about his collection of Venus Fly Traps. I suppose you could assume that I encouraged his speech, because I smiled and nodded at all the appropriate places. In reality, I was wondering how much it would hurt if I jumped out the window.

However, I was spared premature death upon finally arriving at school. We endured the Sorting Hat Ceremony and I battled boredom by generating all the possible ways to torture Potter. After the Feast and the Ceremony, Nathan and I had to escort all the first-years to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Finally, after breaking up a cat-fight between two rowdy second years, I happily settled onto the couch in front of the fire. The Common Room was pretty vacant, with the exception of a few upperclassmen. Most of the younger students had crawled off to bed, probably exhausted from all the excitement and hoopla that followed the first day.

I hadn't a clue what time it was, but I guessed it was close to midnight. Audrey had already stumbled off to bed but I wasn't alone for long. I quickly spotted Remus, free of the rest of Potty and Co. and thus hoped to spark a conversation.

He was sitting at the other end of the room, his back against an armchair, his legs dangling over the other side. His face was buried in a massive book, which suspiciously looked like a philosophical work authored by Voltaire. I slide down the length of the couch and greeted him with a cordial smile, which was promptly returned.

"Hullo Remus. Where's your other half? Or should I say, halves," I teased.

Remus rolled his eyes and shut his book.

"Prongs, er I mean, James is off with Sirius and Peter, instigating pandemonium in the kitchens. Apparently, the huge meal that they recently devoured was an appetizer."

I snorted, not the least bit surprised. It figured that Potty would pull such a flamboyant stunt. He was always trying to show off to everyone, regardless of the fact that such actions could and would possess dire consequences.

"And if I may ask, why aren't you with them? And don't tell me that Voltaire was too tempting to put down."

Remus smiled and then nonchalantly shrugged.

"Wasn't too hungry. Besides, they'll probably bring me back something. So how are you? Petunia didn't give you too much trouble over the summer hols, I hope."

I laughed, touched that he was concerned with Petunia's daily habits of pretentious prejudice and the fact that he had to even _ask_ to concur the extent of her vain behavior. The fire danced and crackled, emphasizing the specks of gold in my companion's eyes. You know, it's really a shame that I **hadn't **gone and fallen for Remus. He really _is_ quite the catch. No, instead, I had to direct my raging hormones towards Sirius Black, the kind of guy that tossed girls faster than an intimidating pile of dirty tissues.

My Mum had always chastised me for indulging in my stubborn side, yet I'd never been able to decipher her observation. However, it was quickly becoming clear to me that she was absolutely right. I knew that fancying Sirius Black was about as promising as the tranquility of an arachnophobia coward in a cave of tarantulas, but I was too stubborn to give up the secret _(and hopeless)_ pursuit, let alone ever confess my feelings of idealistic affection.

"Petunia gave me as much trouble as she usually does. However, whenever she started screaming in my face, I threatened to hex her and that shut her pie hole. I still haven't had the decency to admit that I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school. It's my little secret."

We both laughed. Remus knew too well about the horrors of living with my paranoid sister. It was a topic that never lost its novelty. Remus was silent for a moment, swimming away with whatever thoughts were brewing inside his head and then regained his undivided attention upon the conversation at hand.

"You know Lily, earlier on the train; I don't think James meant any harm. I mean-"

I conquered the unfortunate event of self-asphyxiation due to uncontrollable laughter.

"Remus, are you feeling ill? This is _JAMES POTTER_ we're discussing. James Potter is trouble on legs! Potter was born to torment me with his incessant schemes to win my heart, when he's too thick to realize that I'd rather jump off the Astronomy Tower! I-"

However, my rantings and ravings were interrupted by the recognizable howling and screeching of Potty and his other two cronies. Our conversation was automatically forgotten, as Remus cast an uneasy glance in my direction and I clenched my teeth in routine irritation. They bounded into the Common Room like a drunken assembly of sailors, their bellowing laughter on the borderline of a deafening shout, their arms sagging with a month's worth of cakes, pies, breads and sandwiches.

Disgustingly enough, Potty appeared absolutely tingling with glee at the thought of such a stolen feast. What an **idiot.** He's either creating ways to murder my last nerve, or stuffing his face with sweets. Quite the bloke, eh? I mentally prepared for the explosive exchange of verbal bullets that I just knew would occur. Remus swung his legs frontward and then stood up, ready to greet his friends.

"Oi, Moony! Look what we've managed to drag up for you," Sirius triumphantly announced.

Remus accepted the five pounds of coffee cake and sheet of brownies that Sirius shoved into his outstretched arms. Remus thanked him and offered me a portion of his share, but I politely declined. When Sirius noticed that I was seated next to Remus, he winked and took a spot on the couch.

"Ah, Lily. What are you doing up so late? Surely, I'd have pictured you stowed away in the library, getting a jump start on next month's homework," he cheekily jested.

I offered him a false scowl but blushed in spite of myself.

"I was just about to head upstairs before you lot barreled in," I crisply informed.

Sirius chuckled and spread out his sweets onto the space before him, as though he were a satisfied pirate, observing his recently acquired loot. I silently studied him for a moment, inwardly gushing at the way his forehead crinkled with concentration as he counted the mountain of sugar cookies on his lap.

Upon noting that one of his beloved treasures was MIA, he snapped his gaze upon Peter, who had settled in a chair by the window and had commenced to greedily shovel carrot cake down his awaiting throat.

"Oi, you bloody thief! Wormtail, you _so_ took one of my cookies. I had 45 and now I only have 44. Cough it up, mate."

Peter began to stubbornly protest, Sirius lost his patience and immediately sprung up, his cookies tumbling to the floor and waltzed over to Peter to swipe his stolen property. Peter started to squeal with resistance and Remus leapt over to the pair, the unofficial referee of this bizarre match.

Due to the silly commotion, I had completely forgotten that Potty had been standing by, presumably drooling and lurking in the shadows, like his usual, slimy self.

"Evans! Fancy seeing you here. Want a Cauldron Cake? Or maybe some pumpkin pie."

I shook my head, thoroughly disgusted by his mere presence.

"Not if your greasy fingers came in contact with it. I'd rather starve, thank you very much."

Potter chuckled and inched closer towards my location. His eyes sparkled with unpredictability and I glared at him, wondering when he would ever relinquish his idiotic mission to become my Knight in Shining Armor.

"Oh Evans. You never fail to surprise me with what witty and vicious comments will fall out of your pretty mouth."

I snorted and rose from my spot. I certainly wasn't going stick around in the Common Room, if it meant that I would be forced to listen to Potter's pathetic excuse at chivalry.

"Sadly Potter, I am never surprised at your dismal attempts to gain my nonexistent affections and therefore make a complete arse out of yourself."

I turned my nose up at him in a near-perfect impersonation of my dear sister, Petunia.

Potter laughed again, as though this were a late-night comedy hour. I rolled my eyes and started to walk towards the stairs. Sirius and Peter were still heatedly arguing over the allegedly stolen sugar cookie and Remus was unsuccessfully trying to persuade Sirius to calm down. I paused at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, at the sound of Potter's oddly sincere voice.

"You're the **only **girl I make an arse out of myself for. Just remember that."

I turned around and we locked eyes. He slowly smiled, a gesture that seemed to brighten his entire face. With the mountain of sweets in his arms and that goofy grin spreading across his lips, he suddenly resembled a little boy. And with that in mind, I allowed my defenses to momentarily crumble.

I returned his smile, though mine was considerably smaller, quicker and tighter. I guess there was comfort in the knowledge that there would always be James Potter to argue with. In an ever changing world, it was a twisted reassurance to know that some things remained the same.

"Whatever you say."

**And with that, I walked up the stairs and to my dorm, suddenly realizing that somehow, this year would be totally different than ever before.**


	4. C'mon Sweet Catastrophe

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this to update. Things have been, once again, crazy but now that it's a little bit settled down, I had time to get out some ideas. Thanks for being patient! In celebration of getting into college, here's the next chapter. And Happy Holidays!

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As soon as Audrey waltzed into the common room, complete with her trademark, puppy-dog pout, I _knew _that a melodramatic dosage of pure, teenage angst would unfortunately grace my ears. A few days had passed since the start of term, with no change of routine or condition. Potter was still a nightmare on legs, Sirius was still seriously sexy and I was still attempting to politely refuse my dear, old Mum's requests to promptly accept a proposal from aforementioned witch's worst nightmare.

Homework was frighteningly ghastly, but seeing as how I'd willingly signed myself up for just about **every **advanced class I could get my greedy hands on, I dare say I shouldn't complain. It was another Friday night and I had gotten an early start on a Potions essay, but my concentration was just not cooperating.

Every little noise, every little sound would smash my intense focus and allow my mind to wander away from the assignment. I had just arrived at the decision to forfeit the said homework in favor of some serious relaxation. Audrey barreled through the portrait hole, her dark eyes scouring the area. The common room was on the crowded side; most of the Gryffindors had gladly sacrificed the chance to start their weekend homework for a much needed dosage of social interaction.

Gryffindors of all years were milling about, voices booming like thunder across the room to their friends, overtly gossiping about the most-loathed teachers and the most recent hook-ups. However, my best friend easily spotted me and shoved her way through the idle masses. With the flow of an Olympic hurdler, she plopped down next to me.

Nearly out of breath, she exclaimed: "Lily, I think I've just had an epiphany!"

I laughed at the gaudy word choice of my best friend, shut my books and then turned to fully view her shining face.

"And do you care to elaborate on this?"

Her natural response was to laugh and she nodded her head inwild excitement, as she regained a steady flow of oxygen.

"I've been so blind all along. I mean, I was sitting in the library-"

I gasped and clutched her arm.

"Audrey Grant has actually been inside the library, based upon her own free will? Am I still dreaming?"

She scowled and swatted my arm away.

"Oh shut up you and let me finish the story. Anyway, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I was sitting in the library; just wandering around, when I bumped into James. As usual, I turned into a complete idiot. I nearly popped my arm out of its socket, trying to say hi to the bloke. And he just brushed me off and demanded to know where _YOU _were. Of course, I was too stupefied to give him a proper answer, so he got cross with me and stormed away."

"Thirty minutes and two boxes of chocolates later, I asked myself: Why in the world am I wasting my time chasing after James Potter? I'm single, I'm seventeen _AND _I've got the best legs in our whole house. I mean, Merlin, the time James notices someone other than _you _is when Ryan McDermont takes a shower."

She paused to let her unforgiving gaze wander to the hygienically handicapped bloke, in which she didn't bother to hide her obvious disgust. She commenced her conclusion with a snort.

"And we both know….**that's** never going to happen."

I couldn't control my laughter, totally intrigued by Audrey's wacky self-realization.

"And is that all you've come to realize? Or is there more to your spiritual self-discovery?" I demanded.

"Ah, yes. That's where you come in to play. This may sound a little strange, but I'd rather appreciate it if you didn't run for the hills screaming."

I raised an eyebrow. Upon this cryptic observation, the news was probably a tornado wrapped in a box labeled "endless sunshine."

"Will I be screaming with laughter or horror?"

Audrey wrinkled her brow and scratched her chin, appearing in deep thought.

"Well, I guess that depends on how you take it. As you know, I'm completely over my little school girl crush on James. So after I saw his true nature, I came to thinking about someone else, someone I've always had in the back of my mind, but never really gave too much thought too."

I was beyond interested.

"All right, you can stop with the over-dramatic suspense. Who's the lucky bloke?"

Audrey cleared her throat, fixed me with a winning smile and sighed.

"Lily, as my best friend in the entire world, you've got to help me get together with Remus."

Well, you can imagine my shock. I mean, the Beauty and the Brain? As a couple? Now, don't get me wrong. I truly believe that Remus is quite the catch; he's smart, witty, compassionate and blessed with good looks that are _exceptionally _underrated. If I had been born with some more sense, then maybe I would have been the one that had developed a raging crush on him.

Sadly, my affections for Remus were purely platonic. He would always be more of a brother to me, than a potential boyfriend. However, I could never picture Remus with someone of the likes of Audrey. They just didn't mix. It would be like wearing stripes and polka dots simultaneously. I mean, if you isolate the two patterns, they're quite nice. Once you put them together, it's a big mess.

"Remus? As in…Remus Lupin?"

Audrey folded her arms over her chest, her blissful glee quickly dissolving into annoyance and frustration.

"Look, I know I'm not a genius and I don't like to discuss philosophy and dead poets for a riveting Saturday evening. But maybe that's something I've been lacking and something I've come to understand that I need. I'm tired of dating blokes that only care about Quidditch and the Chudley Cannons. I want to have a **real** conversation with a bloke; I _want_ someone who challenges me. Jocks are _so _overrated anyway."

I threw her a genuine smile, my skepticism changing at her choice of words. Maybe I had misjudged Audrey's intentions. It was true; I had witnessed her go through a fair share of brainless prats and idiotic wankers, who didn't comprehend the difference between a troll and a unicorn. It was about time that Audrey deliver credit where credit was due; mingling with the likes of such unwashed miscreants was a serious offense to her self-dignity and respect.

As far as Remus was concerned, the boy _did_ need a little excitement now and then. Granted, there was nothing wrong with sinking your teeth into a great piece of literature, but life was also about the experiences of human interaction. The poor chap; a little, harmless flirting would probably benefit his spirits.

It was obvious; I had become the designated matchmaker before I'd even read the contract. However, despite my initial disbelief, I was now ready to tackle the job with the same zest and zealous determination that I issued for my schoolwork. Enriching the lives of two love-impaired friends for the strengthened welfare of all Hogwarts? I'm on it!

"Actually, now that I think about it, it seems like a spectacular idea! I love Remus to pieces, but the bloke could really use a bit of fun in his life. He can't hide forever behind a book."

Audrey's expression took a 180 from extremely cross to absolutely giddy in a matter of two seconds.

"Exactly! So I was thinking, maybe you could talk to Sirius about me? Mention my name somehow? I know you hate James, so extracting any information from him would ruin our plans."

Now it was **MY **turn to hyperventilate. Sirius? Sirius Black, England's Finest Male Specimen and My Secret Crush? Was she **insane?**

I wrinkled my nose, as though I'd gotten a whiff of something exquisitely rotten.

"Uh…why couldn't I just talk to Remus himself? I mean, Sirius? He wouldn't really help. Or why not Peter? He's just as good of a source as Sirius," I nonchalantly suggested.

She violently shook her head.

"No, no, no. Peter is all wrong for this. He'd run and tell James, who would go and pester Remus about it; and you know how shy he can get. He'd never look me in the eye again! Sirius is the perfect candidate for our scheme. He's smooth; he'd figure out how to arrange something without being too obvious," she argued.

I sighed. This was positively hopeless. I couldn't very well spill my secret and confess my brewing feelings for Sirius. On the other hand, it was very difficult to conjure legitimate reasons to avoid him. Finally, much to my displeasure, my conscience and reason overpowered my fear and anxiety.

Forcing a tight smile, I yielded to her stalwart demands. Audrey gave off the illusion that she was five years old and I'd just informed her that St. Nick would be flying down the chimney. As I contemplated the consequences of my actions and attempted to settle the tumultuous ocean in the pit of my stomach, Audrey grabbed my hand and squeezed it with alarming force and urgency.

"Oi! Look, here's Sirius now. And he's by himself. Ace chance to go and talk to him!" she hissed.

Sure enough, the Rebel Without A Cause had just aimlessly wandered through the portrait hole, flipping his jet-black mop out of his twinkling eyes. I gave him one, long look and gulped, hoping to erase the scratchy, tennis-sized ball clogging my esophagus.

I could only imagine, with the utmost accuracy, how Audrey behaved around Potter. If there were some sort of marvelous prize for _Girls Who Makes The Biggest Loons Of Themselves Around Unworthy Blokes_, I have no doubt that Audrey and I would be tied for first place. Right now, it looked like I had stolen the lead.

Audrey gave me a little shove, growing impatient.

"C'mon Lils, go ahead before it's too late!"

Mentally preparing myself as though I were about to attend a funeral, I shakily stood up, smoothed down my already crease-free robes and then proceeded to glide over to Sirius. He had stopped to observe a game of chess between two fifth years and was chuckling with soft laughter, as the first boy's knight smashed the second boy's queen. I doubt he noticed that I was **wheezing** behind him, or if he did, he chose not to acknowledge my disturbing presence.

I glanced over my shoulder and locked eyes with Audrey, who promoted my pursuit with a series of quick and sharp nods, as though she were a bobble head doll. I turned around and internally vowed to strangle Audrey on a later and convenient date. Sirius was too swept away in the humorously violent extravagance of the game to notice my dance with indecisiveness for the last ten seconds.

"Uh…Sirius?"

I lightly tapped him on the shoulder and he immediately whipped around, his hair following him like a silky curtain. I mentally swooned. Pathetic, am I right?

"Ah, Evans. I mean, _Lily_. How can I be of service?" he curiously wondered, his attention totally diverted.

I felt my small intestine slowly slither upward and leisurely start to wrap around my throat. I figured it would be about five more minutes until my large intestine proceeded to follow example, so I had better start to speak before all false valor was lost. My cheeks were nearly aflame and I'm certain my ivory skin was splashed with a lovely shade of vibrant strawberry, but I continued with my reckless mission.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could discuss something with you."

I stopped, my eyes sweeping to the two fifth year blokes. They had abandoned their game and were rudely staring at Sirius and me, their mouths formed into cheeky grins. Stupid fifth years.

"Yes?" Sirius eagerly wondered. His eyes hadn't dared to leave my face and he offered me an expression of inquisitive encouragement.

I glared at the leering underclassmen. They promptly went back to their game, humiliated that they had been caught red-handed. I turned back to the Adonis, otherwise known as Sirius.

"Alone," I replied through gritted teeth.

He heartily laughed and shrugged, then pointed to the portrait hole.

"Step into my office, Miss Evans."

I forced myself to respond with a faint giggle that more so resembled a dying crow and then followed his retreating back.

And as I stepped through the opening, I was suddenly struck with the bewilderment that I had no clue what in the world I was going to say….

Brilliant. Now would be the **perfect **time to panic.

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A/N: Hahahaa, I'm loving this….Audrey…Lily…Sirius…this is too much fun! R&R PLEASE! 


	5. The Infamous, Almost, Not Quite Snog

-Disclaimer: You know the drill by now. At least I hope.

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-A/N: Happy New Year! Maybe I'm a huge dork for saying this, but I'm having so much fun writing this story and shaping MY version of Lily. I don't know exactly what it is, maybe I'm just excited to be working with some fresh material. Anyway, read, review and you'll have my eternal gratitude! Thanks guys!

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The moment could probably have been ripped straight from my indolent day-dreams. Here I was, standing in the deserted hallway, with Sirius Black. He languidly shoved a glossy lock of hair out of his eyes and suddenly I felt like I had transformed into a weak and spineless fawn, captured by the mere gaze of a wolf.

The sounds of the common room bled through the closed door, though muffled and sounding relatively like the buzzing of a bunch of bees, intoxicated by cough syrup. This certainly wasn't a part of the plan! How long could I endure my own self-torture? I had to think of something to say and fast.

"Well, Lily. You said you wanted to talk to me. I'm all ears," my heart's desire purred.

I pressed my lips into a loopy grin, the one thing I seemed to execute without painful effort. Oh brother. Why could I fluently mouth off to Potter but the minute Sirius even _glanced_ in my direction, I turned into a walking heap of mush? Pathetic, Evans. Just pathetic.

I shuffled from foot to foot, hesitation and trepidation grasping my nerves by the toes.

"Ahem…well, as you know. Remus and I are pretty good mates, yeah? But sometimes, I really worry about the bloke, honestly, I do. Because Remus has got everything going for him, but he seems to be…uh…_lacking_ in the romance department, if you get the drift," I stumbled.

Sirius cackled with jovial laughter, placing his hand on his stomach. I felt my face instantly ignite with uncontrollable heat. Great. So now that I had finally managed to spit out a few sentences that resembled modern English, it had apparently been delivered with the wrong conviction.

Instead of thinking that I was serious, Sirius believed my request for conversation had been formulated out of some big joke. Whatever fake confidence and self-assurance I had managed to scrounge together automatically demolished at the unpleasant sound of his rich baritone.

"Oh, bloody hell. That's pretty good. Pretty accurate as well, if I do say so myself. Prongs, Wormtail and I have been heckling Moony for **AGES **about that. I mean, he's one of my best mates, but the boy could greatly benefit if he took his nose out of a book and got himself a girlfriend. Terribly uptight, that's what he's becoming. I know there's a party-animal hibernating deep down, inside."

My panic decreased and I allowed myself to genuinely smile. I felt as though a monstrous weight had been removed from my shoulders. Now that THIS horrible ordeal was out of the way, maybe I could finally begin to speak like a normal, human being. Dear Merlin, **WHY** did he have to be so annoyingly irresistible?

"Precisely. Which is why I think it'd be an absolutely ace idea if we tried to set up Audrey and Remus. All right, so the initial idea of getting them together is about as silly as setting your hair on fire, or eating paste. But you know what they say, opposites attract," I casually suggested.

If only this could be applied to my situation with current Hottie Galore, standing right under my nose.

Sirius frowned, his forehead crinkling with pensive concentration.

"You know, depending on the brand, paste isn't half bad," he slowly mused.

I wrinkled my nose in horror. Though he was rather attractive, this redeeming quality was not enough to thwart my feelings of disgust at his unnecessary revelation.

"Gross. Anyway, moving away from your adventures in paste, what do you think of my idea?"

His shoulder's heaved with a self-induced jolt, as though he'd been stung by a rod of lightening. Sirius chuckled, more so to himself, then nodded, the familiar gleam returning to his eye with vengeance.

"Ah, right. My apologies, Madame. I think your little scheme is smashing. The Beauty and The Brain. But what's your plan of action? How are we going to get them together? You know Remus is as shy as a newborn unicorn."

I tapped my finger to my chin, allowing myself to draw my attention from Sirius and to my thoughts, which were running and ticking like a hamster on a metal wheel. That was a good point and despite all my eager motivation, had failed to even dwell upon.

If I even _HINTED _to Remus about what I was trying to do, well it'd be just as useless and ignorant as a wanted criminal running up to the Dementors and bellowing, "Here I am!" The bloke was terribly brilliant and awfully clever, but he was cursed with a frustrating amount of bashfulness towards the opposite sex.

"You know, Black, for once I have to commend you on your intellect. I hadn't actually devised a way to get them together; I knew that I just _wanted_ to set them up. I guess we'll have to generate something at a later date," I wistfully responded.

Sirius slyly smirked, stepping an inch closer. Just like that, it felt like my limbs had been doused with gasoline and he was dangling the flaming match above my hair.

"So, does that imply I'll get to speak with you, alone, on multiple occasions?" he huskily questioned, specifically emphasizing the word _alone_.

I gulped, my hands fidgeting with the front of my robes. My heart was racing to the menacing and wicked beat of consistent sixteenth notes. With surprising aggressiveness, I silently willed the beat to decrease in speed. However, this protest was all done in vain.

...That's right Lily, maybe if you _pretend_ you have total control of your emotions, you won't feel like such a total prat.

"If the occasion calls for it, yes, I suppose so," I hoarsely whispered.

My throat had gone dry, as though I'd been rubbing its basis with harsh sandpaper throughout the course of the day. Sirius was advancing even closer. He was much too close for comfort, though I wouldn't dare complain. I discovered that his eyes were not simply or purely blue, but strangely enough, tinted with flecks of the faintest gold. He hadn't even blinked, hungrily gazing at me with the utmost intensity.

I could have fainted, right then and there. But then I realized it wouldn't appear too attractive to fall into a pile at his feet. However, girls seemed to freely throw themselves at his size 11 Doc Martins anyway, so if I just so happened to collapse, I don't think he'd be _too _stunned by its peculiarity.

"Well, dare I say it? I have to confess that I'm going to take an awfully strong attachment to playing Cupid."

Holy Mother of Lobster, was I being seduced! I keenly studied Sirius's body language, the way his lips were slightly parted, the undeniably low and charming texture of his voice. It was a well-known fact that Sirius had legendary skill when it came to wooing the ladies. He was some-sort of reincarnated Casanova. I mean, Romeo had nothing on Sirius Black. In a rare move of valor, I stepped forward, closing the small space between us.

I've been known to look before I leap. But in this case, the sensation of the death-defying fall was more rewarding than the knowledge of its height. Yes, Ladies and Gentleman, there was no doubt in my little mind that I was being seduced by the one and only, Sirius Black. And frankly, this was one battle where I had willingly surrendered even before I stepped on the field.

I could feel his breath tickling my face. Should I make an even bigger arse out of myself and wrap my hands around his neck? I was at a complete loss at what to do. Remus wasn't the only one that needed a meager refresher course on the do's and don'ts of teenage romance.

Sirius gazed down at me, the lust in his eyes transforming into something entirely different. This was it. He was going in for the kill. I vaguely wondered if I should have taken liberty of brushing my teeth before I'd wandered out into the halls. Nothing like raunchy breath to murder the mood.

_"Lily…."_

But before Sirius and I could consummate the hinted deed, a very venomous and livid James Potter barreled down the hallway.

"Oi! Evans! Padfoot! What in the bleeding hell is going on?"

Sirius yelped like a puppy kicked in the gut and promptly backed away, as though I'd just confessed I had recently been diagnosed with herpes. My blissful and slightly goofy smile had been replaced by a routine scowl.

I whirled around like a catastrophic tornado and faced the insufferable git. My hands came crashing to my hips and I attempted to bore holes into Potter's face, which was curiously twisted into some variation of horror, shock and grief.

"Excuse me, Potty, but shouldn't you be leaving? You know, doing something meaningful in your space time, maybe finding a comb instead of lurking around in school corridors?" I sneered.

At the mention of such a hygienic tool, Potter's hands frantically dove into his hair, presumably to "artfully" mess it up. I haven't the faintest clue why he thinks I'm prone to bed-head hair. It just makes him look like Oliver Twist.

On a most appreciated note, _Shy, Blushing and Bumbling! Lily_ had been swiped for _No Nonsense! Lily_. I was ever so grateful that this change of disposition had not been handicapped by Sirius's seriously sexy plot of foiled seduction. It was typical that Potter should come along and **RUIN** a life-changing moment. He always seemed to be sticking his nose in my business, especially when he witnessed a prime opportunity to demolish my already wacky, social life.

He was like a bug, rather a cockroach. Even though you lathered your walls and clogged the holes with poisonous repellent, the nasty little things seemed to always return to the scene of the crime. He was downright sick with envy.

His eye released a spastic twist and his hands clenched into fists of steel. Granted, I pitied him for a moment. I mean, sure, he's annoying, rude, obnoxious, disobedient, loud, dull-all right, you get the picture. But despite Potter's demons of social retardation, it was never pleasing to see your best mate about to snog the love of your life.

However, once I regained my sanity, I realized that these were different circumstances.

"Yeah well, as Head Girl, shouldn't _you_ be inside the common room, instead of loitering around in the halls with strange blokes! Who knows where that mouth has been!" Potty fired back, with the alarming speed of a rapid-fire machine gun.

Sirius rolled his eyes, not at all offended by Potter's crude remark. All the while, I stood between them, wishing that I could run over and strangle Potter, while simultaneously praying that Sirius would tell Potter to "bugger off," and then swiftly sweep me into his arms and smother my face with a long-awaited smooch. What a **JERK!** Did he always have to spoil everything? This was so demeaning….

"Oh….why you little prat! Why don't you…I don't know…why don't you go kiss a toilet seat!"

I was so flustered and mortified with the entire situation, that the childish sentence was the only counter-defense that would spew out. The air was thick and laden with the sudden and unexpected occurrence of stunned silence. Both Sirius and James could rely on me to supply some highly-witty comeback, complete with adjectives and verbs that would make a Webster's Dictionary green with envy. But this….this was a mockery of my flowery vocabulary.

Sirius glanced at me, his brow raised in question. Potter was staring at me, absolutely dumbfounded, his animosity shrinking by the very second. Both of them were still undecided as whether to start hysterical howling, or make a mad dash for Madam Pomfrey.

I'm sure that by now, my face was as bright as my hair. Maybe even a bit redder. I bit my lip, my hands shaking with self-loathing. Yes, the best idea would just be to run. No use trying to salvage my dignity now.

"Did I hear you correctly? _Kiss a toilet seat?_" Potter demanded, still unable to shake his disbelief.

The two boys continued to stare, in hopes that I would simply laugh and declare it a bluff. I let out a nervous string of giggles, sounding more like Moaning Myrtle on valium than a seventeen-year old witch who didn't give a damn.

"That's what I said, Potty. Five points from Gryffindor for undermining my authority! Now bugger off!"

And without a backward glance, before the Fat Lady could open her mouth, I nastily barked the password and thrust myself through the portrait hole, steam practically elevating out of my ears. As soon as Audrey spotted me, she thundered over to me with the elegance of a pregnant hippopotamus and latched onto my arm.

"Lily! How did it go?" she wondered, nearly hyperventilating.

I snorted, looking for my homework, ready to once more consume myself with my work.

"Don't ask," I snapped, through gritted teeth.

The very next day, Sirius proudly sauntered down to the Great Hall with a beaver tail.

Three guesses of the name of the culprit.

And somehow, I can safely assume that the adamant villain was notRemus or Peter.


	6. Up Close And Way Too Personal

-Disclaimer: I own nada.

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-A/N: Here's a long overdue update! Thanks, once again, to all your lovely people out in reader land. Haha.

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As I dragged myself out of the cruel and unusual punishment otherwise known as Potions class, I began my egocentric and annoying lamentations about the significant horrors of the educational system. I forced my hand to my head, rubbing my temples, wearily gazing at Remus.

After an especially strenuous class of non-stop brewing of ridiculous potions with lengthy and unbearable names in Latin, our professor had announced that we'd have to complete a project for the upcoming semester. Thankfully, Remus and I had been paired together. Audrey was not in our class, because she hadn't signed up for it and unfortunately, didn't have the prerequisite marks to advance.

"Merlin, I swear, one more equation for some stupid potions concoction and my brain is going to burst!"

Remus rolled his eyes, all too immune to my routine show of verbal self-despair.

"Lily, you were the first one to finish your potion. And I'm sure Professor Slughorn gave you the highest grade in class, as usual. So I don't understand why you feel the need to drive me insane with your complaining," he casually teased.

I emitted an elongated sigh, shooting my eyes up to the ceiling. I pretended to be completely vexed that Remus, of all people, had failed to console my pseudo state of wretchedness.

"I'm alarmed, Remus Lupin, that you, out of _all_ people, would say something so awful."

We continued to bicker back and forth, the chortles of Peter, Sirius and Potty echoing like chimes, in the background. It had been a few days since my little close encounter of the third kind with The Seriously Sexy Mr. Black _(Note #1 to Self: I really need to stop using that pun)_. Our little plan to enrich the lives of Audrey and Remus had kick started with a painfully slow engine.

I'd attempted to get Audrey and Remus to engage in some serious one-on-one conversation; the typical oh-no-i-just-remembered-i-have-homework-but-you-two-should-talk ordeal. I know, not exactly the most subtle way of going about things, but it was better than the idiotic ideas that Sirius kept generating. His idea of chivalry was to hand Remus the key to the fifth-floor broom closet. I had to relentlessly convince him that snogging in the creepy darkness of a smelly cupboard was not the true definition of romantic paradise.

We had reached the common room, when I decided to take a stab at my hidden agenda.

"You know Remus, rumor has it that you're _quite _the desired bloke these days."

Remus immediately howled with laughter, stopped to check if I remained serious and once he realized I wasn't goofing around, he commenced his heckling.

"And what rumor mill have you been listening to? You sure those fumes in the lab didn't alter the chemicals in your brain? I'll be glad to personally escort you to the hospital wing."

I playfully hit Remus on the arm as we located a few chairs by the window. The night was young and we had about an hour until dinner would be served. The portrait hole was constantly swinging open to reveal the glowing faces of students recently relieved from academic purgatory.

"Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. I know a few young ladies that are itching to have the pleasure of being in your mere company," I haughtily corrected.

Remus launched himself into a chair and I diligently followed his action. Sinking low into the plush cushions, he rested his head on his hand, intensely studying my eager expression.

"All right, either I've stepped into some alternative reality or you really did inhale too many toxic vapors. Don't think you're fooling _me_, Lily Evans! For the past week, you've constantly hinted about some random girl or another that seems to suddenly have fallen madly in love with me."

I snorted, appearing to be shocked that he would ever suggest such frivolous logic.

"First of all, I'm perfectly fine. Second of all, why is it such a ludicrous idea that someone might fancy you?"

Remus scowled, correcting his lousy posture and pompously crossing his arms over his chest. He lowered his gaze, looking more animated and annoyed than I'd ever witnessed.

"You're up to something, I know," he grumbled.

I painted my lips with the utmost darling and dulcetly luscious smile. I daintily interlaced my fingers and rested them on my lap, imitating a shrewd businesswoman about to cut a raw and unfair deal with an unsuspecting client.

"What would ever lead you to that idea?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer with something equally sarcastic, but was robbed of the opportunity. Like the bells of Big Ben, James swaggered over to us, nearly trampling two fourth-year girls who had ceased their juvenile conversation about hair mouse, in order to literally drool over _The Infamous Potty_.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to gag on something unexplainable, logged in the depths of my throat. Remus exhibited the erratic behavior of a bi-polar victim, his daunting frown hastily changing into a gleeful grin. Ha, and he's the one calling _me_ crazy? Sorry, but I think we've found our prime example.

"Oi, there you are Remus. You and Evans darted out of Potions so quick, Padfoot, Wormtail and I thought that someone had lit your robes on fire," he jested.

Remus laughed this comment away, as though James were a small and harmless fly.

"Actually, Potter, the smell alone was enough to make me gag. But one more second of staring at your hideous face and I would have thrown up all over my shoes," I testily snapped.

Remus groaned, woefully muttering something that curiously sounded like, "Not again."

James threw out a good-natured laugh, commencing to lightly applaud.

"Well, well, looks like Evans has been working on her insults. I bet you've been practicing in front of your mirror, haven't you?"

Remus, that despicable bastard, actually had the audacity to chuckle! And I thought he was on **MY** side! Humph.

I stuck my tongue out and sneered. Not the most adult and sophisticated thing to do, but when dealing with a teenager encompassing the mentality of a six year old, sometimes it's better to play the card of complete immaturity.

"Oh, bite me," I snarled, with the deepest and blackest animosity I could conjure. Any normal person would have taken the hint and backed down. But James, as you can already assume, is far from normal.

Potter raised an eyebrow and gave me a critical once-over. Despite my ignited anger and humiliation, I blushed like a school girl. Although I continuously attempt to thwart my wicked subconscious, I never seem to escape moments of temporarily insanity and feel my heart execute an acrobatic performance inspired by the Circe De Soleil, thus propelled by the occasional glance of James Potter.

"Gladly," my enemy huskily guaranteed.

Those damn eyes of his were like high-powered laser beams, unable to dart anywhere else. I felt like he could practically read my soul, as horribly clichéd as it sounds. And if he had been reading the inscriptions of my soul, he would have known that I'd been too lazy to wash my hair this morning. Certainly, this ESP harassment was a violation of my human rights.

I let out a groan of frustration and promptly sprung to my feet. I decided it was better to make a speedy exit than let the current conditions switch from PG to X rated.

"I'm going to find Audrey. I'll talk to you later, Remus."

I began to waltz towards the stairs that led to the girl's dorms. Remus shook his head, clearly amused at the childish exchange between James and myself.

"Later, Lily," he cordially responded.

"Hey! Don't I get a goodbye?" Tweedle Dee demanded with disbelief.

I whipped around and paused at the bottom step. The pair of slobbering fourth-years had remained in their designated position by the fire place, unable to tear their gazes away from Potter. One more minute and we'd all be needing heavy-duty life vests. I faintly wondered if there were cures for this sort of illness.

"Yeah, Potter. You get a goodbye. And here it is!"

And with that, I gladly showed him my middle finger. This sent the little fourth-years into acute hyperventilation and they began whispering to one another, taking a few precious seconds to look my way and glare.

Potter, once again, was unfazed. He reached out and with mime-like skill, pretended to catch my finger and then safely stow it away in his back pocket. I gritted my teeth, just about ready to yank out my hair. I could already feel the tips of my ears boiling with embarrassment and vanquished patience.

"Unbelievable," I softly hissed.

Potter winked. I gathered my ailing strength and issued Potter my most sincere scowl. When I was positive that he'd witnessed such a public display of hatred, I clomped up the stairs as obnoxiously as humanly possible. As I conquered the steps, I heard the distinct voice of Remus.

"Hey, Lily! Meet me in the library at seven so we can discuss our term project!"

I nodded to myself, though Remus couldn't see me. Still fuming, I thundered up the stairs in hot pursuit of my best friend.

* * *

Somehow, unknown to my reasoning, I was able to remember my engagement with Remus and promptly headed into the library at exactly seven. Of course, when Audrey had discovered where I was heading, she immediately demanded all the "dirty details," about the progress of my temporary services as Hogwart's personal Cupid.

Unfortunately, I had to confess that our progress was so slow it could be classified as regression and therefore, I still had an enormous amount of work to do. God, and adults don't think that being a teenager is tough!

I mean, on top of struggling with my pathetic existence of a social life, I have to battle the obstacles and curveballs of the haphazard social disasters of my friends. Not to mention warding off marriage proposals from a certain bed-head Seeker.

Moving on, I searched the rows and rows of tables, only to be greeted with the suspicious absence of Remus. It was a Thursday night and the library was considerably full. Many students were doing some last-minute studying, scratching away on rolls of parchment or reading up on something. My eyes scanned the vicinity, but Remus was no where to be found. I internally sighed to myself and started to wander towards an empty table. Hopefully, Remus was only running a few minutes late.

I snagged a seat in the back and impatiently waited, drumming my fingers on the cool, wood surface. My memory jogged back to my interactions with Remus and Potter, earlier that day. Something about the way Remus was acting, especially when Potter popped up….

Remus wasn't the typical diabolical daredevil; I usually would **never** associate him with the outrageous and mischievous schemes that Sirius and Potter concocted. However, something about his attitude, the gleam in his eye when I chewed off Potter's head…I've known Remus for too long to underestimate his hidden talents of persuasion. I mean, you know what they say, watch out for the quiet ones!

Remus Lupin could certainly be a serious threat to mankind and the wizarding world if he ever used his humble yet intimidating intelligence for sinister purposes. And yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I was terrified that this was a crucial time that Mr. Lupin was purposely using his tools to ruin my already atrocious life.

A few minutes slithered by and I was spiraling into a vortex of extreme boredom and utter frustration. Due to my isolation, I had time to dwell upon my inner-teen angst, which only encouraged the growth of my simmering grudges and acidic spite. (_Note #2 to Self: It's a good thing to use one's brain, but it's never a good thing to think too much.)_

What _was_ it about Potter that automatically triggered my animalistic reflexes? It was like some sort of verbal survival of the fittest; I could never let my guard down. I had to always be on my toes, my tongue weighed down with the next bitingly humiliating insult. Granted, in the absolute bottom of my twisted conscience, I often got sick and tired of fighting with Potter. Don't take that statement the wrong way, mind you. I wasn't tired of bickering with said wizard because I actually _felt_ some sort of emotion for him. No, the only kind of sentiment I possessed for Potter was pure disdain.

However, our vocal war was just an endless cycle that would never quit; it would always be there, like an invisible wound or the faint outline of an ugly scar. Startling, isn't it, to think that the one person you can't live with, is the one person that you'll never live without.

My entire academic and social life at Hogwarts had always involved sparring with Potter, whether I accepted this fact or not. It had become routine and almost ordinary, to the point where it was like breathing. Yes, scary indeed. I was fully riding the wild train of dangerous and indulgent self-loathing, when the last person I'd ever expect to see in a _library_, plopped down right next to me.

James.

**Potter.**

He was like a highly-skilled assassin, about to swoop in for the kill. I was so swept away by my thoughts that I didn't notice his slimy presence. Funny, since I always can observe the overwhelming stench of his imposter-designer cologne, about twenty-five miles away.

"How's it going, Evans?"

I literally jumped three feet in the air and let out a shrill scream of surprise.

Naturally, everyone in the library nearly broke their necks, attempting to get a good look at my blanched face, while Potter clutched his stomach while letting out a string of ear-splitting cackles. So this is what the state of my life has been reduced to; sitting in the library with James Freaking Potter and nearly losing all the liquid stored in my bladder, because he gets his kicks by scaring me senseless.

Remus J. Lupin, the next time I see you, let's just say my foot will make a long-overdue trip to "a land down under."

"Potter! What are you doing here?" I wondered.

Potter took the seat next to me and inched closer, absolutely gleaming from ear to ear.

"Remus told me to tell you that he couldn't make it tonight. Something came up. In the name of Audrey Grant. However, I was sent as his ambassador. Seeing as how we _are_ conveniently located in the library, I was thinking that you could help me with a Muggle Studies paper?"

I only stared at him with dull indifference. I knew this was only an excuse to talk to me, so I quickly figure out a loop-hole.

"Why can't you get Remus to do it?"

He shrugged, his giddiness resembling some sort of lethal disease, consuming not only his tone of voice, but his eyes and his mouth.

"I always ask Remus to help me with my papers. It gets rather annoying after awhile, so I just put two and two together. I mean you're here; you spend as much time as Remus with your nose in a book- seems like a splendid idea to ask for your assistance! And you know I'd be forever grateful, if you obliged."

My lip curled into disgust, my silence my curt answer. Potter had pulled out a roll of parchment from his robes and placidly unrolled the scroll, smoothing out the undesirable bumps and wrinkles.

Adjusting his glasses a bit, he turned to face me once more. I had pleaded amnesia to his little bookworm comment; my logic was churning like an electric water wheel, much faster than my senses could endure.

For once, Potter hadn't introduced his presence with a rude observation or a crude insult. And his request for help hadn't even been _that_ offensive. To help, or not to help? That was the question. My bleary eyes swept to the parchment and I slowly began to devour the words.

_The delectable mozzarella cheese drips from each savory bite, like some sort of creation by an unspeakable God. The soft bread is light and overwhelming to the taste buds; the high-quality grains are rich with nutrients as well as mouth-watering flavor. The crust is firm yet flexible, sprinkled with a plentiful helping of olive oil, giving the supple illusion of a mahogany hue. The pepperoni slices are molded and cut to utter perfection; it's truly a piece of heaven. The-_

I immediately stopped and stared at Potter, my eyes boring into his with frantic disbelief.

"Your article…is…about…**PIZZA**?" I screeched.

Potter fervently nodded and I slammed my head on the table.

This was going to be quite a long night.

* * *

A/N: No, this story isn't going into the direction of: JAMES NEEDS TUTOR! LILY TUTORS JAMES! THEY FALL IN LOVE! This is justone instance for Lily and James to bicker and interact and show their hidden, or at least in Lily's case, attraction for each other! 


	7. The Benefits Of Being Disabled

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Sorry this took awhile to update! Thank you, as always, for reviewing and reading. I know you're probably sick of me saying that, but I really mean it. I know that some of you cringe at the Sirius/Lily fling going on…lol…but hopefully, if I'm a decent enough writer….the intended hints that I threw in there, show that although Lily **SAYS** she likes Sirius….her emotions don't always agree….And I'll leave you with that.

* * *

Alice greeted me with a flippant smirk, as she handed me a soggy envelope. Unfortunately, I had overslept and therefore had to forfeit the opportunity to eat breakfast. With an intimidating amount of sound and fury, I'd carelessly thrown on the first articles of clothing that didn't posses a pungent odor and then shoved my arms through my robes. 

I didn't even bother to put on my tie. I scrambled down the halls like a leper with a clubbed foot, and then whirled into Transfiguration. Our Professor was organizing the last of her notes for our upcoming lesson.

Upon my noisy entrance, her head popped up, pressed her lips in a thin line and then went back to her work. I automatically blushed, as though someone had tossed red paint on my cheeks. My fellow peers were gladly snickering at my disheveled appearance.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled and I instantly knew that Potter was totally absorbed by my whirlwind appearing act, surely accompanied by that insufferable gaze. For some reason, I felt more embarrassed than malicious. I graciously took the envelope out of my friend's outstretched hand, wrinkling my nose as the sodden paper touched my fingertips.

"Thanks, but may I ask why it's soaking with…" I trailed off, catching a familiar scent.

Alice cocked an eyebrow and completed my thought. Her eyes flashed with jovial amusement.

"Milk? Yeah, looks like Twilight had a little accident during the Post. Dove right into Frank's cereal," she cheerfully explained.

I groaned, a mental image of the disaster imprinted in my brain. Though Twilight sported a rich, velvety charcoal color as black and beautiful as her name, she was quite accident-prone.

For some unusual reason, I'd been fooled into believing that her physical perfection swelled past the exterior. Sadly, I quickly discovered that it was a sham. However, my frustration quickly eased at the mere sight of Alice's jolly expression.

Besides Audrey, I suppose you could state that Alice was my other partner in crime. As pensive and bubbly as Audrey was outspoken and blunt, she had the rare gift of manipulating any negative emotions of a bystander.

By this, I mean to say that her smile and generally upbeat temperament was highly infectious; if Alice knew you were stuck in a terribly foul mood, she'd successfully rip you from the pit of your synthetic despair.

Truthfully, Alice couldn't fairly compete with Audrey's looks, but she sustained a beauty all her own. Complete with iron-straight locks that were more light auburn than coffee, hazel eyes and a heart-shaped face, it seemed that the purity and admirable innocence of her character flowed through the walls of her body and oozed onto her very skin.

Alice had definitely assumed a somewhat motherly role, on account of the baffling wild antics of Audrey and my routine melodramatic episodes of a Shakespearean degree. However, this was not to say that Alice was a straight-laced goody-goody.

During the duration of our Hogwarts careers, I had learned to never underestimate her rebellious streak; her faint attraction for the spontaneous usually popping out of left field and inflaming with surprising capacity, over time. Despite this, she was the type of student that memorized the entire rule book and didn't dare hesitate to recite it, if we were about to engage in an act that would smear her blindingly clean, school record.

Realizing that the two of us were still standing in the middle of the classroom, I sighed and stuffed the envelope into my pocket. My eyes swiftly glimpsed at the front of the paper, recognized my mother's squashed calligraphy and vowed to read it later.

"Thanks, Alice."

She shrugged and started walking to her seat. She plopped down next to Frank Longbottom, her longtime crush and current boyfriend. Coincidentally, Audrey was sitting next to Remus. I smiled at the pair, who seemed to be engaged in a meaningful conversation. Remus kept clearing his throat, a rather annoying idiosyncrasy he executes when he's particularly nervous, namely around the female population.

My best friend gave off the impression that she was under a spell, her eyes intently focused on the object of her desire, rarely blinking. I held back the urge to wistfully sigh. As usual, Audrey Grant urgently wanted something and as usual, she snatched it away without difficulty.

Audrey caught my gaze and over the top of said boy's head, waggled her eyebrows with delight. I strangled a laugh and then scoured the room for an empty seat. Peter was sitting with a very miserable Sirius, chin lazily rested in the palm of his hand. My heart fluttered a little at the sight of his dazed expression, shadowed by that curtain of hair.

I silently mouthed off a few curse words, disappointment sprouting like a rose bush. I frowned, attempting to guess the origins of his foul mood. I didn't have to think too hard. Unfortunately, the only free spot was next to Potter.

Potter noticed my vexation and allowed his lips to curl into a slow and steady smile, the bright white surface of each tooth gleaming like snowcapped mountains. I felt like an invisible hand was running a feather down my bare spine. Though I fixed him with my usual glare, I couldn't stop my stomach as it sadistically twirled around and around itself.

I swallowed, hoping to ease the dry and coarse texture of my throat, but it failed to bring comfort. Potter's glasses acted as a weak protector to the spectacular illumination of his warm orbs and I frantically swept the room in vain, hoping I had missed a vacant space. Potter gently laughed, a sound that rose well above the polite and soft chatter of our classmates.

Using my peripheral vision, I saw Sirius roll his eyes. I suddenly wished that I'd just stayed in bed, instead of forcing myself to be put on public display.

"Well, Miss Evans? Are you planning to take a seat, or would you rather stand the entire hour and fifty-five minutes?"

A few people chuckled. The clipped tone of my Professor made me flinch.

"No, Professor," I confirmed.

She firmly nodded and then glanced toward Potter.

"Good. Then do sit down."

I sighed, knowing that it would be foolish to increase her annoyance. Dragging my feet as though they were stapled to the floor, I flung myself into my spot, almost forcing Potter to violently kiss the ground. Not that I would have cared. I hadn't interacted with Potter since our little study session, which had been about a week ago.

Ignoring Potter wasn't an abnormal action, but the reasoning behind this desired choice had certainly blossomed from different roots. For once in our seven years at Hogwarts, Potter and I had endured a few hours together without bickering. Granted, we certainly fired a dozen or so verbal spears, but it was nothing compared to our usual rows.

Despite his ridiculous paper, I soon discovered that I'd temporarily abandoned my stony disgust and disdain for newfound relaxation. Potter no longer became my sworn enemy, but a fellow Gryffindor, who needed some _(more like limitless)_ pointers on an academic assignment. And I was no longer "Evans," The Girl Who Eternally Hated His Guts, but Lily Evans, An Estranged Acquaintance Willing to Help. It was so weird that I discreetly pinched myself under the table.

However, just like Cinderella, Potter magically altered back into a lowly pumpkin. When I'd thoroughly checked his paper and the clock struck 11 PM, Potter allowed the standard garbage to flow from his mouth. By this, I mean to clarify my vagueness and say that he ever-so rudely asked, more like **COMMANDED**, that I go out on a date with him. The wanker.

I was reminded of the reality of the situation, lost my temper and drowned my serenity into an enraged stupor. I stormed out of the library, Potter anxiously nipping at my heels. He followed me into the common room, babbling his nonsense without inhaling.

I was blinded by fury and without a second thought, scooped up a random Astronomy book and chucked it at his big, swollen head. Surprisingly, my determined throw left a considerable crack in his glasses. Potter stared at me in awe and bewilderment. Before he could rev his motor-mouth, I clomped up the stairs like a dinosaur.

The next day, I scowled as Potter hobbled up and down the Great Hall, a thick slab of white gauze proudly bound around his head, like a WW II victim. I don't know where on Earth he retrieved it, but I suppose he "borrowed" it from the hospital wing. His lap around the tables was followed by the coo of sympathetic females and the hysterical, booming questions of male sports-junkies.

He exaggerated his handicap and remembered to increase his moans of agony, whenever he wobbled past me. However, I soon learned that I would have to save my unfiltered wrath for a more convenient time, because the rest of the Gryffindor House had decided to fully believe Potter's wailing.

Though I was assured that his many talents were only designated for pranks and childish schemes, it was unfair to call him a horrible actor. On the contrary, Potter took his brilliant ruse for a Broadway production, only encouraging the growing mob's impatient frustration. And how I hated him for it. Even Audrey was a little skeptical about the veracity of my story.

The first Qudditich match of the season was about two weeks away and with Potter down and out for the count, rabid fans were worried that we'd have to forfeit the match. Seeing as how the team was scheduled to play Slytherin, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, was about to slaughter me and serve my head on a shiny platter.

Every time I attempted to talk to him, a group of buzzing groupies would form a human wall, assuming that I was about to increase his wounds and push him down a flight of stairs. Not that sounded like a bad idea….

I soon got so fed up, that I didn't even bother. However, now that the match was approaching closer and Potter showed no signs of yielding his clandestine dance with deception, I knew that I would have to eventually break my silence.

He was having too much fun with this, I wordlessly mused. He was stringing me along and I could only indulge his demands. The muscles of my cheeks literally strained with excruciating tension as I scowled at Potter. Furious that I would be subjected to nearly two hours of Dante's _Purgatory_, I situated myself, crossing my arms over my chest.

Potter let his lips quiver with that notoriously obnoxious laugh, adjusting the bandage on his head. The Professor sighed and swooped to the front of the room, whipping out her wand. Everyone reached into their bags and pulled out a roll of fresh parchment, a bottle of ink and their quills. I followed the collective action, doing my best to pretend Potter didn't exist.

"Evans, hey Evans! _Psst_…Evans!"

I narrowed my eyes until they were snake-like slits and scooted farther away. If only murder wasn't a criminal offense…Oh the possibilities would be endless!

"Evans? Have you gone deaf?" Potter tersely hissed.

Students situated behind us snickered and the tips of my ears blossomed with vigorous heat. I just wanted to blend into the background and Potter was doing everything in his power to shove me into center stage. Two dizzy girls from Ravenclaw, so aptly sporting tie-dyed **FREE JAMES POTTER** T-shirts, took this opportunity to throw wads of paper at the back of my head.

Potter beat the temptation to wet his trousers with cackles.

"Shut up, Potter!" I softly squealed.

I didn't have to glance at his face to know that he was pouting.

"Aw c'mon, no need to be rude. I just wanted to know if-"

I whipped around with enough force and fury to make Merlin shake in his shoes.

"NO! The answer is always and forever will be **NO**!" I curtly barked.

Our Professor put the brakes on her train of thought, focusing her attention on the two of us. Once again, our fellow classmates commenced to gawk as though we were a traveling freak show. I wanted to melt into my chair until I was absolutely liquid or water vapor, nothing else. Anything to get away from Potter.

"Miss Evans. Mr. Potter. Is there a problem?"

Before I could respond, Potter nodded.

"Actually Professor, I was just going to politely ask if Ev-I mean, Lily had a quill I could borrow. You see, a poor first year was running late to class and couldn't find her writing utensils. So out of the kindness of my heart, I let her keep mine."

I had to snort at this obviously fabricated tale of humility. The entire representation of female students couldn't resist their natural instinct to crow with admiration. I knew better. Obviously, Sirius and I were sharing a similar brain wave and he let loose a dark chuckle. Our Professor was far too tired and weary with impatience to pick apart his poor excuse.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Miss Evans, do you have another quill to spare?"

I clenched my teeth and flashed a tight smile, the desire to cause another disruption as about as burning as the wish to contract small pox. Purposely pointing the pen towards the flesh of his hand, I rigidly shoved the quill at Potter.

The lesson continued, as well as Potter's jabbering. I was attempting to copy down the copious notes scrawled across the blackboard, but Potter believed that this was a frivolous task.

"Evans. Evans? Look, I _know_ you can hear me."

My nostrils flared but I didn't cease the movement of my hand.

"The first Qudditich match is in less than two weeks. You know, I doubt our house would be pleased if I was still deemed incompetent to play," he slyly hinted.

My free hand scrunched into a lethal fist. I was like a potato, frying in a basket of smoldering oil and fat.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

Potter shook his head, grinning as though we were discussing an ingenious prank to play on Lucius Malfoy.

"Why, of course not. Just discussing the reality, love."

I reluctantly faced him, all thoughts of writing totally escaped the prison of my mind.

"Don't call me love."

Potter held up his hands, as though he were an outnumbered general about to surrender to the invading army.

"Fine, fine. Anyway, I was thinking. If you don't want the entire student body to hunt you with pitch forks, I was thinking it would be a smart plan if you came to the upcoming game."

I frowned. It seemed way too easy. There had to be a hitch.

"…Come to the game? And that's all? You'll give up your impertinent charades and rejoin the team?" I mused.

His silence was terrifying. I could practically see the gears in his head turning, like Big Ben.

"Well, yes. What, you want it to be harder?" he provoked, with taunting bafflement.

Impossible. He was utterly impossible!

"Well, knowing you, I was expecting you'd want me to show up in a skimpy bikini, carrying a stupid sign," I offhandedly rationalized. I shuddered at the mere mental image.

Potter scratched his chin, attempting to mock some sort of Greek statue.

"Now that you mention it…"

I ferociously sunk my nails into his wrist, my penetrating gaze threatening to wordlessly promise physical violence, if necessary. My skin tingled, as though the very blood rushing through my constricted veins was bubbling.

"Don't get any ideas! You initially proposed that I would have to make an appearance at your match. Those are the terms I'm abiding too. You can't go and amend them now."

Potter heartily chuckled at this, not even bothering to adjust my neurotic grip. I shifted in my seat, terribly aware of how the absolute glimmer of his mouth provided a glass wall to skew the menacing crackle of emotion that leaked out of every pore.

It was stupendous to know that some girls easily stumbled at the sight of such a tempestuous disposition; Potter mimicked a savage predator about to rip the limbs off a blind lamb, than a genuine, smooth-talking heartbreaker.

It struck me as odd; since when did I feel so vulnerable around Potter? He was just another pathetic, sad wanker…nothing special…so why did I fee like he could easily decipher the ridiculous monologues of my head?

"Evans, Evans, Evans. First of all, your vocabulary is positively daunting! You know that a poor simpleton such as _me_ can hardly understand you. Second, you underestimate me, you really do. I was just pulling your leg. Please, for the sake of your own mental and physical health, just come to the game?"

I rolled my eyes, stretching whatever confidence I'd acquired over the last few minutes; pulling the sentiment like a figurative cotton T-shirt. I quickly decided that Potter was actually talking out of his head and not his ass; abiding to his stupid agreement would be the least painful way to redeem myself in the eyes of my malevolent peers.

It was certainly a losing situation, even considering both sides. Either ignore Potter's request and eternally be cast as Hogwart's Official Social Pariah, or follow through, put my patience to the test but hopefully recapture the hearts and minds of the Gryffindors. Not too bad, right?

I mean, if Fate had woken up on the correct side of the bed, it was a pleasant possibility that maybe Potter would get knocked off his broom and crack his head open. And then, despite my travail, at least I would have discovered some form of entertainment for the day. Plus, there was without a doubt that Remus and Sirius would show up….Sirius…now _that_ was definitely a reason to go.

I realized that I had been wandering in the dense gardens of my scattered thoughts and snapped back to attention. I studied the Cheshire Grin of Potter, looked down at my fingers still pressed into his wrist and then zestfully let go, as though I'd heard the cry of a Mandrake. He leaned forward in his chair, anticipating my response. I turned back to my work, noting with fair horror that I had missed about three pages of valuable notes.

"I guess I'll see you next Saturday."

And with that, Ladies and Gentleman, I had willingly signed away my soul to Lucifer himself.


	8. Some Like It Hot

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! As usual, thank you for being excellent reviewers!

* * *

Unfortunately, Judgment Day had finally reared its beastly head. I was sitting at my desk, finally responding to the letter that my Mum had written ages ago. It was a rather tedious task, seeing as how I didn't want to write anything that would cause alarm.

* * *

_Dear Mum, _

_School is going all right. I'm doing pretty well in all my classes, though I really can't stand the amount of homework the Professors assign. Tell Dad I'm really proud of him for getting a raise. It's been long overdue. Now, to answer your never ending collections of questions: _

_1. No, I don't need you to ship me anymore underwear. Especially not the 'My Little Pony' ones. I'm fine. And they **DO** have a laundry service here, you know? _

_2. Being Head Girl isn't challenging and I quite like it. Although, it does get annoying when you have to remind the first-years that NO, it's not safe to throw chocolate frogs off the __Astronomy_ _Tower._

3. _James Potter will always be an arrogant, little twit. I haven't spoken to him anymore than deemed necessary. Just a few weeks ago, he got a detention for turning the hallway torches into watermelons. Yeah, he's a pretty upstanding gentleman, don't you think? _

_Well, I think that pretty much covers everything. And, despite the fact that I know Petunia didn't personally, "say hello," I'll keep up the charade. Naturally, tell my dear sister that I hope she's doing all right in school and her newest boyfriend, Vince or Victor or whatever his name is, sounds positively wonderful. Insert my sarcastic grin. _

_Love Always, _

_Lily_

_

* * *

_

I was signing off, when Audrey bumbled through the door. She was quite the spectacle of fanatic fever. Head to toe in a vivid red and majestic gold, it was no surprise that even her face was smothered with the house colors.

In her hand was a floppy banner and I had the feeling that my best friend would be the stand's resident cheerleader. Hastily scribbling my name and stuffing the parchment into an envelope, I turned around in my chair and faced her. Audrey's eyes widened with horror, as her eyes studied my outfit. I smiled.

"Lily, have you gone insane! You can't wear black to a Qudditich game! Especially against Slytherin, of all people. Gosh, you look like you're going to a funeral!" she screeched.

I let out a sigh and primly rose, adjusting the sleeves on my black sweater. I know, I know. I was officially labeled bonkers for wearing such violation attire to a Gryffindor game.

I wouldn't be surprised if people from St. Mungos were waiting outside my door. However, when I agreed to go to Potter's little match, that didn't necessarily mean I would go peacefully, now would it?

I wistfully sighed, dramatically clutching my hands to my heart.

"Exactly. This is a funeral to mark the death of my sanity."

She stared at me, resembling a fish out of water. I sighed and grabbed my pea coat.

"C'mon, let's go. You want a good set of seats, don't you?"

Audrey blinked and nodded, following my lead out of the room and down the stairs. Within a few minutes, we had joined the massive throng of students as they marched to the fields. It was a crisp yet refreshingly warm, fall day and despite the various scattering of clouds, the sun refused to hide in shadow.

Everyone was buzzing with excitement, the air saturated with the high-volume conversations of the students and teachers, mixing with the sharp sound effects of the players, as they whizzed and whirled in the air. I didn't bother to look for Potter, because I knew he would eventually find me.

The stadium had been divided into their respective parts; one side was slathered in silver and green, while the other half was decorated in red and gold. The match was only seconds away, but the tension was volcanic. As Audrey and I made our way up to the Gryffindor side, I welcomed a pleasant sight.

Situated in the center of the stands, near the announcer booth, was Sirius and Remus. Obviously, Peter was there as well, but I really could have cared less if he'd bothered to make an appearance. All three boys were dutifully wearing the appropriate Gryffindor gear, though Sirius was the only one that had painted his face.

"Oy, look Audrey! There are the rest of the boys. Let's go sit with them," I gleefully suggested.

As soon as Audrey spotted Remus, she eagerly nodded and practically shoved me out of the way. I rolled my eyes and laughed, taking the stairs two at a time. Unfortunately, because I had been so insistent upon pin-pointing Sirius, I had failed to witness the rather ditzy blonde fifth year, clinging onto his right arm.

Though it was on the chilly side, her heavy coat was fully unbuttoned, fully exposing her ample cleavage, which had no doubt been created by mounds of toilet paper. Her face was caked in makeup, her eyes nearly sagging with an excess amount of cranberry eye shadow.

I curled my top lip in disgust, sincerely hoping that Sirius would view the nameless fool as more of a joke than a prospective date. As we approached closer, I studied his face and let out an inner sigh of relief. Sirius seemed to be rather amused by the shenanigans of the fifth year, alternating glances between the players and her jubilant face.

However, I was quite disappointed to catch him peeking at her very fake, Marilyn Monroe chest. Then again, boys will be boys, so I tried not to take the gesture to heart.

"My, my, my, look who decided to show up," Remus teased.

I smiled, though it was a weak one compared to Audrey's toothy grin. To my delight, as soon as Sirius and I locked eyes, he snapped at the blonde, who was forced to scurry down the benches, with her tail between her legs. The boys scooted around, to make room for us. Audrey made a beeline for Remus and I casually plowed my way over to Sirius.

My best friend and I made a cordial salutation to Peter and then turned our attention to our seat partners. Taking the place of the exuberant, fair-haired admirer, I attempted to look calm and collected, though I was absolutely jittery. Although Sirius looked borderline ridiculous with all that face paint, it still didn't take away from his gorgeous features.

"So, Lily, care to explain your…interesting choice of wardrobe?" he jested, playfully eyeing my extremely black ensemble.

I nervously giggled, knowing that my earlier tirade would sound absolutely stupid now. I fiddled with a button on my coat, taking time to formulate a decent answer.

"Well, I don't know if Potter told you or not, but I'm returning a favor. However, seeing as how I can't stand him, I decided to bend the rules a little bit," I explained, hoping that it would strike the chord of witty and clever, rather than cleverly idiotic.

Sirius chuckled.

"Actually, for the past few days, he's been wetting himself with joy, going on and on about how the one and only _Lily Evans_ is going to Saturday's game, just to see _him._ I suppose this all had to do with the fact that you assaulted him with a deadly weapon?"

I pretended to fume with indignation. I crossed my arms over my chest, assuming a very hostile stance, though the grin on my face was frozen in place.

"Hey! I'd hardly qualify a book as a weapon. Besides, it only cracked his glasses. If Potter can withstand bludgers and other flying objects, I think he's strong enough to deflect a book," I huffed.

The object of my affections chuckled, indiscreetly inching closer to my side. I bit my lip, sure that my eyes were positively buzzing with anticipation. Sirius was silent for a moment, staring at the game, which had just begun. I studied his suddenly pensive expression and then fixed my vision on the unfolding match.

I wasn't an expert on Qudditich, but I knew enough to clearly follow the game. Potter was already twirling about on his broomstick, his eyes keenly darting around for the Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker was doing the same, taking every few minutes to glare at Potter.

The rest of the teams were whizzing about at a much lower altitude; the Gryffndor Beaters, two burly fourth years named Mike and Ike, took every possibly opportunity to smash a few bludgers in the direction of any Slytherin member. This was a surefire crowd pleaser for the Gryffindor side, which began loudly counting the number of hit targets.

Frank Longbottom, Alice's boyfriend, was in charge of commentary, sounding much like those professional ESPN newscasters, though he wasn't shy about vocalizing his obvious Gryffindor favoritism. Gryffindor had regained control of the Quaffle and was in the middle of executing a very complicated play, when Sirius finally turned to me again.

Just like every other time I'm faced with those irresistible, spell-inducing orbs, my knees automatically resembled mushy Jello.

I took a small peek at Audrey, believing it would momentarily ease my sky-rocketing blood pressure. She was engaged in a hearty conversation with Remus and even Peter, who would haphazardly throw in the occasional commentary. I looked back at Sirius, who hadn't even bothered to divert his attention.

"Lily, you know, technically, it's totally against the rules to do this, since my best friend would give his cerebral cortex to hold your hand. But I never was keen on following rules…and seeing as how you'd rather marry Snivellus than touch James…"

He softly trailed off, aware that I would take the simple bait.

I furrowed my brow, the muscles in my stomach clenching with dulcet trepidation. He smiled, unlike his usual trademark of almost cartoon-like grins. The result was like releasing a cage of vicious butterflies in the bottom of my gut.

They started to attack my sides and the walls of my organs, chewing and hacking away at whatever vital tissue was open. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from his face and before I knew it, I was locking lips with Sirius Black.

As much as I'd loved to say it was like a pair of fireworks exploding in my head and all those over clichéd analogies, it wasn't anything to go loopy about. I mean, sure, it was better than I'd fantasized about. Though I failed to envision a storm of fireworks, I'm pretty sure I saw fervent sparks.

However, I hate to confess….but something was missing. I couldn't exactly describe what that _something_ was, but it certainly was there. Like a pink elephant in the middle of a room that no one wants to point out. I don't know if Sirius shared similar feelings about this, but if he ever did, he covered them up like a master.

We slowly pulled back, a dopey smile on my face, Sirius grinning as though he'd won a lifetime of chocolate and gag gifts. I know that I said the kiss wasn't as stellar as I'd initially envisioned, but that didn't mean I was immune to his breathtaking skill…or the fact I was itching to kiss him again…..

"Sirius…"

But before I could say anything, Frank Longbottom interrupted us.

"GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR! Oh and I have a public service announcement to make. James Potter would like to say that Sirius Black is a conniving, little liar and that Lily Evans should probably wash her mouth for twenty minutes after kissing him. Thanks, that's all!"

A murmur of confusion erupted throughout the Gryffindor side, while the entire Slytherin side snidely quavered with approval.

Sirius immediately paled at this and then ignited with intimidating rage. His mouth struggled to properly function, as it let loose a jumble of run-on curse words.

I was beyond embarrassed, but more than anything, I was ticked off. Why did Potter always have to butt into my life and ruin everything? When would he take the hint? My gaze shifted towards the sky, where I somehow knew that Potter was perched on the edge of his broom, leering like a mad man.


	9. I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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A/N: Here's the next update! Thanks for all the support and kind reviews. This chapter was inspired by the new film version of _Pride and Prejudice_. Specifically, the scene when Elizabeth and Darcy go to a party at Bingley's house and dance with each other….ahh all that tension! You've gotta love it.

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Gryffindor ended up winning the match, despite my frequent attempts to murder Potter via telekinesis. Speaking of telekinesis…I wonder if Mum threw out my copy of _Carrie…._Moving on, naturally, the boys decided it would be best to throw a raging party. Despite my livid protests _(I am Head Girl, after all)_, no one bothered to listen. So, surprisingly enough, I put a large band-aid over my bruised and infected ego. At precisely 11 PM, I headed downstairs and willingly submitted myself to the organized chaos and deafening roars of the common room.

Audrey was already latched onto Remus like a Seeing Eye Dog, the pair unable to move an inch without pulling the other along. I lingered on the bottom step for a moment, quietly observing my peers, wondering if this had been a silly mistake.

Though Sirius and I had enjoyed a rather heated first kiss, I still was clueless as to our relationship status. He'd failed to formally ask me out and I was too chicken to even broach such a subject. I mean, I didn't want to scare him away or anything.

The party had turned into quite the shindig. Somehow, the invitation had been graciously extended to other students outside Gryffindor and a good sprinkling of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were mixing and mingling. Some bright soul had lugged a radio downstairs and turned it to 107.7, the WWN's top 20 station.

A raucous tune was blaring through the air, some students taking this as a signal to start dancing. One rather tipsy Hufflepuff fifth year was dancing on top of the couch, convinced that the coat rack pressed against his chest was a gorgeous girl. The furniture had been shoved to the back of the room, bursting with the illusion of a wooden fortress. A folding table had been placed near the right side of the portrait hole, showcasing an intimidating bowl of a rather suspicious green substance.

Upon observing the popularity of said liquid, I could only turn my critical eyes away from the indiscreet act of rebellion. It was enough to make my stomach churn with undiluted disgust, having to witness such a scene and pretend to be powerless to stop it.

All right, so maybe I sound like an uptight pansy. But I take my responsibilities as Head Girl quite seriously. If I allowed my sense of spontaneity to viciously overrule my sensibility, why, I'd be just like Potter! And really, he's the last person I pinpoint as a role model.

Anyway, I had to machete my way through the mounds and mounds of smoke that had mysteriously appeared, in addition to the shocking amount of bumping and grinding bodies. Suddenly, out of the mist, like a wolfish Mr. Darcy, Sirius suddenly swooped to my side. My foul temperament rapidly galloped away and I probably looked like Audrey, when she's spotted a new pair of designer heels.

"Hey beautiful."

His voice fluttered through his lips and into my eager ear. Much to my pleasure, he expertly slipped his arm around my waist, as though we'd been dating for ages. I secretly scanned the vicinity for a rabid Potter, hoping that he was staring so I could smirk.

However, much to my surprise, he was flirting up a storm with some leggy sixth year. I looked up at Sirius, who was absolutely beaming. For some reason, I felt a little guilty. How odd.

"Hey stranger. Interesting turn out for your little party, don't you think?" I playfully chided.

He chuckled, the noise slightly louder than the thunderous roar of the radio. God, he was so stunning. Normally, I tend to get annoyed by immaturity. I mean, I take one peek at Potter and I feel like the veins in my head are about to self-destruct. But for some reason, the deceptively innocent and childish manner of Sirius Black was more of a blessing, rather than a defect.

"I'll say. Well, Miss Evans, can I get you a beverage? We have…"

He stopped to study the table on the other side of the room.

"The selection is quite daunting. We have….some murky looking, green stuff and…even _more_, murky green stuff. Take your pick," he finished, the tone of his voice twinkling.

I laughed, finding his hand and interweaving my fingers with his own.

"Wow, what a variety. I think I'll pass on the mystery beverage, as tempting as it sounds. I don't want to endure any embarrassing side effects, you know," I lightly dismissed.

Sirius chuckled and we remained silent for a minute or two. Inwardly, I started to have a mini-melodramatic, nervous breakdown. That kiss was still furiously plaguing my mind like Moaning Myrtle during Valentine's Day.

Maybe I am a tough cookie. But I mean, even Elizabeth Bennet couldn't eternally resist the brooding charms of a certain Mr. Darcy. Then again, maybe this is why I'm so utterly and hopelessly ignorant to the secret world of the opposite gender. I spend my time crammed up in the library and then the rest of my time reading about 17th Century Aristocrats.

Merlin, perhaps Audrey has a valid point; I need get out more. The party was still blazing forward with full-throttle rowdiness; as the supposed "punch" floated from cup to cup and hand to hand, the minority of conversing groups transformed into a majority of bumbling idiots.

I let out a hasty prayer that the Headmaster would be deaf to the noise. I fell from my silent submission after Sirius called my name for the eighth time. I gazed up into his eyes with profound humiliation, giving his hand a tender squeeze.

"Lily, you sure you didn't drink the punch? I've been trying to get your attention for the past three minutes," he softly teased.

I nodded, smiling like an illiterate, English tourist wandering around a market in Spain, trying to bargain for a bar of chocolate.

"Sorry. I kind of spaced out for a moment. It's been a long day," I half-fibbed.

My boyfriend-in-question grinned and then gave my hand a little tug. I raised an eyebrow in quizzical curiosity.

"Well, this isn't probably the best time to bring this up…but I figured if I don't say it now, I never will. I don't know why this is so hard…but…Oh brother, I sound like a damn greeting card…," he uneasily faded away, losing his normal cool and sleek composure.

I waited, offering an encouraging smile.

"I really fancy you, Lily. And I don't want to sound like a weird freak or something, but it's different with you. In a good way," he finally fumbled.

I wasn't aware that I had been holding my breath, but when he had released his confession, I thankfully exhaled. I suppose dragging myself to this blasted party hadn't been a total loss, after all.

Despite the hazardous layers of smoke that threatened to produce artificial tears and the limitless number of opportunities for incipient blindness, due to all the overt exchanges of body fondling, I'd received a totally swoon-worthy declaration of affection from my secret crush! Awesome. Maybe it really _does_ pay off to read Jane Austen.

Slapped by shock, I attempted to form a witty response. But my throat was parched, my tongue sagging on the bottom of my mouth like dress robes doused with a fire hose. Our fingers remained interlocked and I was grateful, fully aware that it was a valid possibility that my knees would give out.

"You know, I'm really glad you said that. After the match, I was wandering around in a daze. I didn't know if you felt the same way."

The color returned to his cheeks, as well as the inert trait of aloof amusement. His free hand found my face, his thumb tracing a jumbled patter down the bridge of my nose, my cheekbones, and then around the edges of my trembling mouth.

"Ah, well now you do."

He was about to seal the deal with a much wanted kiss, when the Devil himself popped over. He bowed low, almost brushing his nose against the carpet.

"Salutations, Milady."

"Would you do me a favor and disappear!" I ardently hissed, ready to heave Potter out the nearest window.

Sirius rolled his eyes and brought me closer, acting almost like a possessive boyfriend. Not like I minded. Potter chuckled, obviously holding onto a stronger air of relaxed apathy, due to an overdose of the alleged punch.

His robes were messy and full of wrinkles, his tie about to collapse to the floor, the buttons on his dress shirt nearly undone to this abdomen.

Not like I was looking down there…at his abs…and drooling at his well-toned, highly-defined, yet not too muscular stomach…oh no, I would never do that. Especially now that I've managed to win the heart of a certain Sirius Black. What kind of girl do you think I am?

"Haha, c'mon Lily, would you drop the uptight act and behave like a normal, seventeen year old girl? I know you've got a stick up your ass, but I didn't think it was permanently stuck there," he pompously rationalized.

My mouth dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks, my cheeks flaming with anger and embarrassment. How dare he say that to me! Potter's usual smirk had been exchanged for a never-ending sneer. Though he was balancing a lamp shade on his head, he didn't seem to realize his idiotic appearance.

"Just shut up, Prongs. Go away and have another drink," Sirius lividly snapped.

I bit my bottom lip, hoping that their little tiff wouldn't erupt into a full-scale fight. It was a good thing that the music cranked to the maximum volume, because everyone was too engaged in their pathetic attempts at courtship to persuade such an action.

Potter reached into his pocket and secured a Clove cigarette. Thrusting the skinny stick into his ruby mouth, he then groped around in his back pocket and pulled out his wand. Shakily hovering the end of his wand to the tip, a bright spark ignited the cigarette.

He took a long drag and shut his eyes, as though he had mentally teleported to some exotic location. Heaving out a cloud of grey smoke, he lazily opened his eyes and focused on my face, those dark pools ready to cut me down to size.

There was something almost sinister in this synthetic nature, somehow beautiful and cruel at the same time. I was positively stunned. Never had I seen Potter so….frazzled. He was unraveling about the edges.

"You see, dear Padfoot, if you had said that…oh, I dunno, about five minutes earlier, maybe I would have accepted your proposition. But unfortunately, seeing as how I've downed about half the bowl, I'm going to decline."

It was ironically fitting that Potter's verbal skills would still be in tact. They say that there are two kinds of drunks. The first groups of people are absolute idiots and laugh about anything under the sun. The latter group is malicious and crude, unapologetically rude. It didn't take genius to figure out that Potter was definitely thrown into the second cluster.

"Potter. Please, I'm not in the mood for-"

Potter cut off my regal reasoning and choked with cackles. The cigarette slouched from his lips, smoking billowing out of the tiny pores like salmon swimming upstream.

"Evans, Evans, Evans. You never cease to amaze me."

Sirius let go of my hand and stepped out of my embrace, becoming a human shield. Ah, my Knight In Shining Armor.

"James. Stop being a little fuck. You're drunk. Don't ruin everyone's night just because you've got your boxers in a twist," Sirius icily commanded, annunciating each syllable with divine authority.

I had to hold back a smile, oddly proud of my sort-of-boyfriend's switch from goof-ball to mature negotiator.

Potter was mute for a few seconds, searching for the appropriate comeback. Suddenly, his demeanor changed. The bestial vindictiveness had oozed into pensive regret and he slowly eased the lampshade off his head, carelessly tossing it over his shoulder.

"Jesus, I'm making an asshole of myself. I-…Evans. I mean, _Lily_. Dance with me. Just once. This one song."

His voice was terribly broken, like an orphan with no place to go. I felt truly sorry for him, as difficult and foreign as that confession echoes. I looked at Sirius, unsure of how to handle the situation. Sirius mulled this over, scratched his chin and then turned to me.

"Go on, Lily. Hopefully, this will get him off our case."

I stared at him in disbelief. He cracked a grin and brought his lips dangerously close to my ear. I shivered and I noted that Potter couldn't help but wince.

"Don't worry, I'll be here waiting."

He gave a little push on the small of my back and I swallowed my apprehension. Potter's eyes swayed with excitement and I vowed to scrub my hands for at least three hours, after coming in contact with his skin. Who knows what he'd been doing for the past few hours.

**Gross.**

"I'm an ass, aren't I, Evans?" Potter mournfully demanded, pulling me into the center of the room.

"You really want me to honestly answer that?" I insisted, with dry amusement.

The floor was packed; the space was tight as a corset. A few people openly gawked as I gingerly followed Potter. It was a well-known fact that we hated each other. Naturally, watching us dance would be like attending the official wedding of a pig and a lamb.

Potter took one last suck on his Clove, then threw it to the floor and stamped it out with his foot. I was about to chastise him with a school rule, but decided to forgo my decision. With a sigh, Potter delicately wrapped his arms around my waist, like I was an antique doll.

"Umm…this isn't a slow song, you know?" I hysterically reminded.

The speakers were happily blasting _Train In Vain_, by the popular punk band, The Clash. Potter shrugged, inching even closer. Faintly, I wondered if Sirius was lingering in the background.

However, I was overpowered by the startling recognition that although Potter looked horribly disheveled, he smelled rather nice. It was a mixture of smoke….and fresh cut grass….and musky cologne…and for some alien reason, these ingredients formed an intoxicating supremacy. Merlin, another trip via this train of wacky thought and I would be forced to go indulge on some of that punch.

"Does it really matter?" he huskily challenged.

I opened my mouth and then shut it. It would be far easier to agree and get this over with, than put up a dissent. The sooner this fiasco was over, the sooner I could get back to snogging the incredibly dreamy, Hogwarts Bad Boy. Did I just use the adjective _dreamy_ in a sentence? I really _do_ need a good dosage of alcohol!

Gritting my teeth, I languidly placed my arms around Potter's broad shoulders. The song continued, filling in the atomic-bomb sized gaps that we refused to fill.

"Evans. I mean, Lily. Why won't you go out with me? I'm serious when I ask you. I was dead serious the first time. And I was just as serious the two hundred and thirty third time," Potter suddenly spouted, hiccupping a bit.

I sighed, my fiery spunk taking the back burner for compassionate sympathy.

"Because, you're James Potter. And since you're considerably drunk and probably won't remember half of what I say tomorrow, I'll be frank. I find you rude, inconsiderate, annoying, loud, pompous and childish. It's like you purposely get on my nerves, so you can laugh at my expense."

A considerable frown creased his brow. I had rarely seen him serious and the aftermath made him appear his age, if not a few years older. If only he wasn't such an insensitive chauvinist….maybe I'd fine him moderately attractive.

"I don't try to be like that, you know. But it's the only way I can get to you. I just gotta be… a wanker, because it's the only way I can talk to you. I like to pick fights with you….because you always put me in my place. You're rather cute when you're mad," he taunted, with a twinge of melancholy.

I looked at him, matching his somber mood with a sad smile.

"That's some twisted philosophy. But I just wish that you'd realize….maybe I _would_ talk to you, if you acted like a decent human being. Unlike most girls, I'm **not** attracted to jerks. There's nothing sexy about a guy that treats you like crap," I sternly reasoned.

Potter's little Peter-Pan sham soon wilted.

"Then why are you with Sirius? Don't look at me like that; I know you two are gaga for each other. It's disgusting, if I say so. I thought you were better than that, Evans; had higher standards? Sirius isn't the Prince you imagine," he viciously snickered.

I automatically dropped my arms and untangled myself from his rigid embrace. What a sad, pathetic wanker. I knew this had been a bad idea, right from the very start. Potter would never amount to anything more than a narcissistic pin-head. He would never change, blind to the dissent and disapproval of other people, ignorant to the realities of the world around him.

He was hopeless. And I was a true idiot for clinging onto a small, yet fleeting hope for assuming the better of the doubt. You should never place full trust into another person, let alone a guy. They would always find a way to let you down.

Always.

It was better to remain indifferent from the beginning and then you would never have to endure the stabbing pain of disappointment.

"Look who's talking!" I snarled, as I attempted to push through the mass of dancing bodies.

Potter latched out and locked his hand on my forearm. I whirled around, my face twisted into rage.

"Let go of me!" I tensely shrieked, praying that Sirius would swoop in and deliver a sucker punch to Potter's face.

"Evans…Fuck, I always manage to screw up. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am. I just want to look out for you. Sirius…he's not the best guy to get involved with."

I shook my head and agonizingly ripped my arm from his iron-grip.

"You're no saint either, James Potter," I arduously whispered.

Before I could properly defend myself, Potter zoomed in and planted a rough kiss on my lips. A few innocent bystanders actually gasped. I screamed with protest against his mouth and literally threw myself across the room. Ignoring the pleas of Sirius, I raced up the stairs, my hands clenched into fists.

I was still panting when I slammed the door.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't discard the taste of his lips hungrily pressed against my own.


	10. Insanity Can Be Contagious

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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A/N: Woah, it's been awhile since I updated! Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it. Here's the next installment! Last chapter was kind of intense, with all the drama; so I tried to tone it down a bit, in that sense. In this chapter we have….more of Lily's highly entertaining opinions, an appearance by The Seriously Sexy Sirius Black and James, up to his usual no good. Hope you like it!

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_My Dearest Lily,_

_How are things? I was quite pleased with your recent letter! I know school is hard, considering it's your last year and you want to have a strong finish, so you can get a high-paying job, (possibly at The Ministry) and marry a very respected, well-off young man (preferably James Potter) and get a nice house up in Hertfordshire, so you won't end up your like poor Aunt Millie, who's got that terrible gambling problem and sleeps in the back of her 1977 Station Wagon._

_But I know you'll make me proud! You always do! You've got a good head on your shoulders and your intelligence is beyond what I could have ever imagined (I'd like to say that you got this from my side of the family!)_

_One thing I must ask: Don't be too hard on James. His mother tells me that he's having a tough time with his post-graduation plans. He wants to skip the university all together and play professional Quidditich! Of course, Wendy doesn't frown upon this notion; word around town is that James is the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in years! _

_However, his father has put his foot down and demands that James get a degree. But James is so set on his ways that he won't speak to his father until he accepts his decision. It's quite a shame. Anyway, like I said, don't be too harsh with the boy. I'm sure he has a lot on his mind right now._

_And what's this about Sirius Black? He sounds like a fine young lad! Although, I've heard from the grapevine that he's got rather long hair and gets into trouble a lot. Maybe James can take some sense into him, guide him along the path of righteousness._

_Well, I'd better go. Dinner's on the stove and I don't want it to burn. Your father sends all his love and wishes you the very best. Your sister says hello. _

_Love Always,_

_Your Affectionate Mum_

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I obediently skimmed my Mother's letter in record time and tried not to laugh, for the sake of her own dignity. Naturally, my Mum's good intentions were overloaded with her clueless ideals. She just didn't understand that James Potter and I were as compatible as oil and water; the two would never mix. This scientific discovery could be fully attributed to what happened last Saturday.

With the persuasion of alcohol, Potter was more obnoxious and vile than his personal status quo. I was unable to discard such a memory and for one reason or another, my subconscious hatred would finally conquer my conscious thoughts, thus showcasing the disaster that had occurred.

Actually, Potter's drunken displays of public idiocy weren't the element that would continuously trigger my venom; it was more like that bloody kiss! I felt humiliated beyond spoken words. I couldn't believe that he'd mustered the ignorant bravery to pull a stunt like that, especially in front of Sirius.

I had escaped the situation and fled to my room, vowing to forfeit the remaining lapse of the party for a good book. The following day, I avoided Sirius and Potter all together, picking the catacombs of the library over the brisk outdoors. Surprisingly, I was able to complete all of my homework, though my mind refused to stay on its tight leash. Every time I began to read, I could only envision Potter and the way he'd _forced_ himself on me.

Seriously, who did he think he was? Maybe I had a big sign on my head that declared: PLEASE KISS ME, JAMES POTTER, BECAUSE I LOVE LOCKING LIPS WITH TOADS!

I mean surely, this could be the only probable explanation. I just knew that I hadn't sent out any uncanny vibes that would influence Potter to dive right in for the kill. However, I think I would be telling a white lie, if I boldly stated that the kiss was absolutely atrocious. Yes, yes, I can practically hear your gasps as I continue to frantically dig my figurative grave.

Go ahead, fall on the floor and have an aneurysm. But make sure you recover in time for the rest of my confession. Have you regained consciousness? Are you able to maintain a regular interval of oxygen intake? Yes? Good.

Moving on, despite Potter's intoxication and the fact he was groping at my mouth like a salmon swimming up stream, it lasted long enough for me to adequately judge his kissing skills. His mouth was rather warm, like a freshly-baked chocolate chip cookie. And let's just say…he knew what he was doing.

The entire time I was engaged in my steamy lip-lock, I practically had to beat myself into incapacitated submission. Because the entire time _(approximately 5.5 seconds)_ I was kissing Potter, I had to remind myself that **SIRIUS BLACK** was my sort-of-maybe-possibly-hopefully boyfriend in question.

And honestly, a faithful girlfriend wouldn't have lasted for those 5.5 seconds. She would have viciously slapped Potter right across his fat face and then threw herself into the arms of her anxiously awaiting Prince Charming.

But no. This is my strange and bizarre life we're shoving in the spotlight, where everything is more like a badly written, melodramatic soap opera, without the orchestral soundtrack. I had to submit to the will of weakness and I was indifferent to my tumultuous emotions. I mean honestly, if my life isn't a big of a hurricane already, let's add a lethal tropical storm into the messy mix. Naturally, I was carrying this pessimistic perspective like a 500 pound weight when classes reconvened.

Audrey could automatically detect my foul temperament, but chose to spare her face of any bruises. Therefore, she was perfectly polite in reaction to my bestial behavior, but she maintained at least twenty-five feet of personal space. I was really grateful for her courtesy, and silently reminded myself to thank her at a more convenient time.

Later, in Potions, I noticed that Potter was missing. I was still terribly uncomfortable around Sirius and had pre-programmed the notion of sitting with Remus. However, my dear old friend was glued to his spot next to Peter, therefore feeding me to the jaws of an unfortunate fate. I glared at Remus, who pretended that I was invisible. Or perhaps he was too busy having Technicolor daydreams about Audrey, since his eyes were glazed over and his lips were fixed into an eerily docile smile. Hmm…interesting.

Sirius immediately grinned when I was thrown into his line of vision. I tempted his assumption of emotional stability and silkily breezed over to my saved seat. Professor Slughorn was unreservedly engrossed with some bogus formula on the chalkboard, so I took this as an opportunity to straighten out our dilemma.

"Hey, Lily. How are you? After Saturday…well, I kind of got the idea that you were mad at me. Or something," the possible keeper of my heart anxiously confessed.

I fidgeted around in my stool, pulling on the itchy fabric of my wool skirt and pushed up the hopelessly long sleeves of my black robes.

"I'm better. Thanks for asking. I'm sorry I kind of ran off. But I was just so….so…._repulsed_ by Potter that I couldn't think straight. I wanted to come down and talk to you, but I was afraid Potter was still lurking around," I tensely enlightened.

Sirius chuckled, lazily opening his blindingly blank notebook.

"No, he kind of ran off after that. Probably broke into the broom storage shed and flew around the Pitch. He does that from time to time, when he can't handle a situation. The next best substitute for running away, he used to say. Anyway, I figured that you'd be upset. I just wasn't sure who the target of your distress was."

I sighed, my heart floating with liberation, as I was informed of this revelation. It was a good thing that Sirius wasn't angry with me. Then I'd probably be even loopier than my current state. I found it quite intriguing that Potter hadn't reacted with violent words of spite or tried to sucker punch Sirius.

Maybe, for once, he had finally understood the full depth of his actions and thus deciphered the negative impact of his consequences? Maybe for once, James Potter wasn't the sole attraction of his narrow-minded world? I mulled this over, turning it over and over in my mind, and then decided that it was too far of a stretch.

Finally feeling at ease, I placed my hand over my sort-of-kind-of-perhaps-more-than-often boyfriend's. He offered a genuine smile and interlaced his fingers with my own. My heart fluttered, but it only mimicked the weak wings of a dying butterfly. I decided not to take this as cause for mental hysteria, but matched his expression.

"Can I ask you something, without sounding like an idiot?" I anxiously demanded.

He nodded, flicking a piece of hair out of his cobalt eyes, which seemed to roll and thunder like the buzzing electricity before a sea storm. He really was gorgeous….beautiful even, in a way. And yet, I found the initial attraction begin to fade, the spark that had once ignited a frenzied forest fire slowly started to ease into a water-fearing flame.

**What was wrong with me? **

I practically had England's Hottest Bloke eating out of the palm of my hand and I was resisting his charms? Someone, please, just ship me off to St. Mungo's because I bet I can accurately asses my own diagnosis.

"Go ahead, love," he hospitably persuaded.

He said this term of endearment with such a nonchalant calm, that I wanted to squeal with delight.

"All right. Well…now that we've established our feelings for one another, I just wanted to know if we're like…official or something. Because I don't think I could keep pining away for you, if this isn't a real relationship and I told my Mum about you and-"

Before I could choke on my own nonsense, I was immediately silenced with a powerful kiss. This was nothing like the sloppy assault of Potter's Saturday Night Smooch. Once again, my futile attempts to envision fireworks only resulted in an empty canvas. But to set the record straight, Sirius Black is one _amazing_ kisser.

I mean, I almost forget we were in the middle of class, with about twenty of our peers ogling our mini-snog session, watching like a bunch of country hicks who see a working automobile for the very first time.

His hand slipped out of mine and slid up my shoulder, then confidently rested on the base of my neck. I could have _sworn_ that Sirius's Hufflepuff admirers were shooting poisonous daggers at the disparate end of my spine. Ha. Eat your heart out, girls! I indulged in the sensation of his mouth hungrily pressed against my own, loving the idea that I could finally label myself as someone's girlfriend.

All right, so it sounds really shallow, but hey, I'm still seventeen! The fact that I'd managed to snag the affections of someone that was just as intelligent as witty and equally funny as passionate, could easily be interpreted as a heavenly blessing. I giggled then pulled back, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"I don't think Professor Slughorn appreciates our tonsil hockey," I softly jested.

I didn't turn around, fearful of the judgmental eyes of my classmates.

Sirius chuckled, recoiling back with an unwilling force.

"I suppose so. You know, Lily Evans, you're nothing short of amazing."

I resisted the urge to blush, pleasantly caught off guard by his sentimental yet highly poignant comment.

"And you, Sirius Black, are nothing short of wonderful."

* * *

Feeling particularly elated, I lazily strolled down the hallway to the nearest bathroom. Professor Binns was conducting a rather long and snore-worthy lecture about The Great Crusade of 1834 and I was doing everything in my self-determination to **not** pass out on my desk.

Other students had rebelled against the boredom. This type of revolt included painting toenails, reading trashy romance novels, shaving one's legs, playing poker or, in my boyfriend's case _(ah, it feels so good to say that)_, engaged in a heavy slumber, drooling all over his doodle-filled notebook.

Gross, yes, but somehow, strangely sweet.

I decided that the only way to avoid a total mental meltdown was to wander the halls for a few minutes. Granted, this wasn't responsible or moral behavior, coming from Head Girl, but I decided it was better to loiter the depopulated halls, than get caught taking a snooze.

As I rounded the corner, my wind sneakily wandered into a debate between the ever present conundrum concerning James Potter and Sirius Black. To the innocent bystander, the suggestion of a problem would be absolutely preposterous. I had the school's star Quidditch player constantly vying for my attention _(and losing)_, while I had managed to tame the wild stallion, said Keeper's partner in crime.

But I knew that surface appearances weren't the best elements to analyze the veracity of a situation. The outer layer of my internal tennis match was free of blemishes and errors, sleek and creamy like a red rose that has been spray painted with thick gloss. On the other hand, plunging past this stratum, the inner core contained the molten remains of an ever-exploding volcano, rocks and debris projectile vomiting out of the mountain's opening.

I just couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that perhaps I was looking at everything with tunnel vision, that I had secured my opinions with one-sided disbelief and ignorance. I had never really given Potter a chance to redeem himself, had I? But on the contrary, when had such road to perdition been uncovered?

Any chance of my sincere forgiveness was essentially blocked by his thick-head and his resilience to humility. No, he would rather make an ass out of himself and fuel the raging fire of his dignity, than back down with an apology.

Suddenly, I felt the timid breeze of a door as it was thrown open. Next, I felt a calloused hand capture me by the waist, my protests clogging my dry throat. Finally, with the stern click of the shut door, I swiftly turned around to face my kidnapper.

"Lumos," his voice animatedly hissed.

My eyes widened, the heat of indignation creeping up my neck like a viper.

I was staring into the nearly black eyes of James Potter.


	11. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

-Disclaimer: See previous!

* * *

A/N: More James and Lily goodness!

* * *

It honestly felt like a scene from some slasher movie. There I was, locked in the closet with my arch enemy, who appeared to be suffering from a touch of hormonal rabies.

I didn't know whether to laugh it off, or drop to my knees and begin to beg for mercy. Yet, like a sheep suddenly attracted to the gleaming jaws of a wolf, a bigger part of me wanted to stick around and see what he had tucked up his sleeve.

"Honestly, Potter! What do you think you're doing?" I hissed.

I quickly detangled myself from his grasp, recoiling into the bleak depths of the closet's darkness.

Potter laughed, wand poised in his right hand like King Arthur's Excalibur.

"Saving your hide," he pompously declared.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. I figured that I wouldn't be able to get a straight answer out of the little git.

"Care to elaborate?"

He rolled his eyes, perfectly at ease, feeding off of my anxiety and trepidation.

"In about five seconds, a group of second years will come stampeding down the hall, in attempts to successfully kidnap me. We wouldn't want you to be trampled by the masses, now would we? I'm sure ol _Sirius_ wouldn't want his precious Evans squashed like a daffodil," Potter sneered.

A failure in the terms of concealed jealousy, the jest that usually floated in the center of Potter's chocolate eyes crackled and sparkled with pure and intense malcontent. Granted, I felt a little sorry for his erratic state of tension.

However, this was not superior to my annoyance or frustration, as I realized that each passing second would commemorate a possible trip to the land of detention. I had never received a detention or severe form of punishment in all my years as a Hogwarts student; seventh year is not the ideal place to commence such a rebellious streak.

The only way I was going to escape this torturous enslavement was to throw out a bargain. The more I bickered with Potter, it seemed that my duration of captivation would prolong. Potter wanted me to stay in here as long as humanly possible and I'd be damned if I allowed the growth of his wish into a reality.

My motivation was of the highest force; despite Professor Binns and his tedious and monotone lectures, a very sleepy yet very cute prankster and professional bad boy was waiting for my return. Yes, that was certainly a driving factor of my stubborn rationale.

"Leave Sirius out of this!" I indignantly insisted.

I felt like that because my boyfriend was absent in the physical sense, I had to adamantly protect his dignity.

Potter shook his head, dismissing it as though I were a child that had added wrong.

"Why? You know Lily, if you weren't so hard-headed, maybe this conversation wouldn't be taking place!"

This was quite the blow to my ego. First, he had the nerve to kidnap me and second, he commenced to insult my personality and nature? I didn't understand the source of his blasphemous remarks, nor did I genuinely want to pick apart his incentives. James Potter was far too complicated to ever fully comprehend; he was an enigma wound with the threads of a mystery.

For the past seven years, I had been witness to the result of his dynamic persona yet I had never been able to pin-point the origin of these behaviors. My Mum had always pushed the augmentation of a deep relationship with the aforementioned individual, yet I had always been hesitant.

I could never see why so many girls went crazy for him; I could clearly observe the ugly side of his hot-headed wit, traits and consequences that were so hideous that, in my personal opinion, outweighed the supposed tolerable side.

It seems a bit paradoxical and trite to speak such notions about Potter, when Sirius carried many of the same rudiments. However, Potter had always been so persistent to capture my adoration, that it tainted everything else.

"What does that have to do with anything? You know, you're the one being too stubborn for your own good. Just come clean, Potter. The true root of your wrath is solely due to your jealousy! You're just upset that I'm dating your best mate and not you!" I bellowed.

The illumination from Potter's wand was subordinate to the emotion that paraded in his tone of voice and his facial features. Once again, my subconscious knew that I should be fearful of Potter's violent fury, yet the only fear I experienced was the possibility of losing our verbal sparring match. I simply could not be outwitted by a pea brain, i.e. the buffoon towering in front of me.

This anger was quite different from the night of the Infamous Snog; that night had been drowning in the splendor of fresh hurt and betrayal. This incident was marked by full-frontal vexation, antagonism blended with disappointment. That night, Potter had exhibited a considerable amount of vulnerability and weakness.

At the presiding moment, the strength of his confidence squashed any spotlights for momentary frailty. He was a stupendous force to be reckoned with. The atmosphere was charged with both tension and animosity, unspoken words charging head-first into the sentences that flowed from our lips and onto the ground.

Surprisingly, I thought that I could never have an argument like this with Sirius; something so passionate and heated with raw sentiments of assured self-conviction.

And surprisingly, I realized that this type of conversation would be something I would truly miss.

"From the moment I saw you, I just _knew_ that you were different. You're not like other girls, Lily. You're stubborn and selfish and cynical and witty and I wouldn't have you any other way. And Sirius…he's an ill match from the start. I know you think he's some sort of Prince Charming, but Sirius…he's too much of a mess."

Potter was blocking the door, so there was no way I could successfully run. I could certainly beat him in terms of intellectual discourse, but when it came to physical strength, Potter had the upper hand.

And like I confessed earlier, a small and pathetic part of me _wanted_ to remain in my isolation. I was just as anxious to flee, as I was to uncover the next part of our argument.

I quickly reflected about Potter's revelation, too haughty to believe a syllable of any sentence. It was all lies, well calculated lies so I would doubt Sirius and break things off. I was just another conquest on Potter's ever-expanding list.

Naturally, he wanted me because I _didn't_ want him. It's elementary, really. If an individual is constantly teased with the temptation of the unreachable, then the person will always grasp for this unattainable item. The allure of the inaccessible vice is a powerful motive.

I was convinced that James Potter was the type of person that would sell his own mother's liver on the black market, if it meant he received a direct and personal gain. He was rotten to the core. At least, that's what I had always told myself.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Of course you'd badmouth Sirius, just to put yourself in an admirable light. Honestly Potter, it's seventh year. I _still_ haven't shown the slightest interest in you. So what ever gave you the ridiculous idea that I would bypass years of solid conviction?" I snapped, with enough fire to light five chimneys.

He threw me a lopsided grin, one that was both endearing and childish. The anger was still present, though he allowed this to intermingle with a sprinkling of ironic and wry humor.

"I figured you'd have to crumble some time or another. Look, I know you think this is all some sort of well-planned conspiracy; that I'm warning you about Sirius just to encourage your doubts. But I'm only looking out for you, Lily. Sirius is my best mate and all, which means I've witnessed every angle of his personality, from the good, the bad and everything in between. He hasn't earned his" rebel without a cause" reputation for blowing up a few toilet seats, you know."

I frowned, unwilling to budge from my position.

_Don't listen to him. He's only spewing out this sentimental garbage so he can get into your skirt. This is all some big competition to him, Lily. He's got his game strategies all planned out. Besides, Sirius does have his flaws, but no one's perfect. And in general, he's a good guy. So why should you listen to the likes of this prat? For Pete's sake, he stuffed you in a closet!_

"Well, thanks for the heads up. But I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," I leered.

Potter shook his head, the anger igniting with renewed passion.

"You're going to drown, Evans. And I'm offering you a helping hand. Tell me, should my humility be punished?"

I openly laughed at these attempts of philosophical babble.

"Enough with the sappy lines. I never asked for you pseudo-help. You're a parasite, Potter. You leach onto your victims, because they possess a considerable amount of self-security that your fat-head can't possibly fathom. You think that just because I'm not with you, then I'll be miserable. The only thing miserable is your obsession with my love life," I sternly argued.

He scoffed with disbelief.

"You don't know him like I do."

The vibrato of his voice was oddly and eerily frank. However, I chose to ignore this observation. I snorted and took a step towards the door. This conversation was getting old and I was tired of fighting. Whenever I talked to Potter, it was like running in never-ending circles.

"Get a new hobby, Potter. Analyzing my every move isn't going to produce a date."

Potter rammed his back up against the door, glaring.

"You can't stand there and say you don't feel it," he laconically whispered.

I snickered, though it failed to fully cover the mounting zone of my hesitant disquiet.

"Now what are you jabbering about?" I casually teased.

Potter tenderly cupped my cheek in his free hand and I suddenly was frozen, immobile like a great Greek statue on the streets of Athens. I gulped, temporarily reminding myself to breathe, like a victim of an asthma attack.

Why didn't this ever happen with Sirius? Life would be so much easier. I couldn't let Potter gain the knowledge of my weak spot; it would ultimately mean that he maintained an easy source of power. This would be my downfall. And when the stakes were this high and this crucial, I needed everything to sustain the upper hand.

"Chemistry. Even when we're quarrelling, I still want to kiss you senseless. Do you understand how much power you have over me, Evans?"

A chill skittered down my spine and crashed into the ends of my toes. His usually nasal and obnoxious manner of speech had taken a nose-dive, adapting a serious and low baritone.

Unwillingly, the curtains of my eyelids shut, the muscles squeezing with a frightening intensity. Instinctively, my hand wobbled forward, catching Potter's shoulder in order to gain the comfort of balance. The room was far too small and I needed to run as fast as my legs could carry me.

Swiftly, Potter stuck his wand in his back pocket and it was as though an unknown hand had dropped a wool blanket of blackness over our heads. I was choking on my own words and my own principles.

Everything was bound to swallow me, with the loathsome fever of a starving beast. I couldn't deal with this, it was all too much. Surrounded by the darkness and its daunting possibilities, spiteful remarks that had been born on my tongue instantly died on my lips.

There was such avidity about Potter that was strangely entrancing; a twisted car crash that the mind pitied but the eyes feasted upon. The energy of his protests was enough to silence my zealous disparity. In that moment, all I wanted to do was wave the white flag and surrender.

The hand that had been stationed upon my cheek moved to the curve of my hip. The second hand daintily brushed their fingers across my bottom lip. I flinched and sharply inhaled, realizing that I had to abandon this prison if I wanted my emotions to make it out alive.

"Don't do this to me, Potter. I fancy Sirius. You and I…we'd never work out. You're everything I never wanted," I mumbled, like a drowsy drunk.

He chuckled, his smile pressing against my red-hot cheek.

"And you're everything I've ever needed."

What was happening? It was all happening much too fast for my senses and my logic to intake. My systems were overloading and overheating; my heart was in limbo and my hands were trembling with timid shudders. What was I going to do? This had never been in the Hogwarts Handbook!

"Bugger off," I spat.

He didn't say anything, but pulled me closer. I didn't protest. I was like a puppet with strings attached to the hands of a tyrant. Both his hands were lightly gripping my hips and the sound of our rhythmic breathing collided like toy trains. Never had someone made me feel this way, without even saying three words.

"Don't fight it, Lily. Merlin…just to hold you this close….You're killing me."

I didn't know what to say. All I knew was that I needed oxygen. And dawdling around in this little closet wasn't going to satisfy my thirst. Slowly, I peeled open my eyes and met his gaze.

We were mute; his hands around my waist, and my own perched on his shoulders like twin glasses. Fortunately, I didn't have to calculate any tricky ways to beguile my captor. At that moment, a group of giggly voices echoed throughout the hall.

Potter's eyes widened, though he didn't let go.

"Those damn second years. I told you they were after me. They're absolute savages, I tell you," he hissed.

I deeply inhaled and bit my lip.

"Forgive me for what I'm about to do."

Potter was puzzled, his brow furrowed. I waited until the voices seemed to be directly in front of the closet. Without a second thought, I glided out of Potter's arms like a slippery fish and jumped into the glow of the hallway light. I allowed the door to fling open, exposing a stunned Potter, slumped in the dreary corner.

"I found him! He's right in here!" I triumphantly announced.

The squeaky group of second-years cooed with delight and instantly pounced upon their prey. I turned my back on Potter and continued to walk down the hall, hoping my legs would eventually cease their shaking.


	12. A Damsel In Non Exisent Distress

A/N: Ah, sorry about the little mix-up before. It's all fixed now! Haha.

* * *

My Mum says that it's physically, mentally and logically impossible for a seventeen year old to have a mid-life crisis. Well hell, if I didn't know any better, I would totally disregard my Mum's analysis and declare that my sanity was plummeting faster than the Titanic.

After enduring those painfully awkward minutes in the closet with Potty, my head was spinning worse than ever. It was like being blind for the first half of your life, only to undergo major surgery and suddenly obtain the privilege of clear sight.

I was beyond tempted to unload my mental baggage onto Audrey, but she appeared so wrapped up in her little romance with Remus, that I decided it was a worthless effort. Friday afternoon deemed gorgeous, as the final efforts of Fall wearily clashed swords with the incoming chill of foreboding Winter. I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, secure and brisk like a fresh noose.

The frigid air slammed against my open nostrils, my heart steadily beating with the rhythm of my steps. I felt strangely comforted in my choice of wanted solitude, ignoring the obnoxious rush as lovers and friends scurried past, with all the radiating ease of individuals with a hurried burden of going nowhere.

A few people occasionally would pause in their pursuits to wave or idly chat, but for the most part, I walked alone, like a widow leading the head of a funeral procession.

My Mum also says I'm often too serious for my own good. I would just label this a misjudged euphemism for jaded. Or perhaps sarcastic. But as I commenced my stroll around the grounds, I realized that this situation was a well-chosen example.

Most witches my age would be salivating over the prospect of a date with the infamous James Potter. Myself, on the other hand, had turned this into a declaration of war. And war against what, exactly?

Against a boy, playing dress up with a wise man's smile and borrowed charm? A boy boasting tangled hair and wild-eyed illusions of rebellion? What was the harm in that? However, time had only opened old wounds and I knew the depth of Potter's faults. Arrogance and selfish manipulation were never traits to value and thus, his lists of sins had always been lengthier than his list of virtues.

I just couldn't see what everyone else saw, what the world saw, what my Mum admired. Potter was the star of his world and while the audience saw an enigma, I only viewed a phony. So if Potter was such a phony, why did I waste so much time thinking about him?

_Oh Evans, you poor fool. Got yourself into a jam this time, haven't you? Finally, you've managed to grab the attention of a member of the opposite sex that could make a blind girl swoon and all you can obsess about is some idiot prat who needs a haircut!_

I frowned, aware that it probably wasn't wise to conduct a conversation with my conscience, but ignored this observation.

"I am _not_ obsessing about him!" I hissed.

I absentmindedly kicked a bushel of leaves, a frown creasing my cheeks. If only I could fast-forward through this escapade, then maybe I could sit back and laugh at the utter ridiculousness of it all.

With a sigh, I continued along the marked path, until a spectacle caught my eye. On my left side, Severus Snape, aka "Snivellus" to my boyfriend, Potty and Co., was engaged in a heated spat with a sixth-year Gryffindor.

Although Snape had shoved his sleek wand underneath the boy's Adam's apple, said boy appeared as though his enemy was explaining the terms of a free market economy. Boiling like an infuriated Zeus, Snape boomed hostility into the student's face, providing enough spit to water a bed of dying roses.

A few people had stopped and were crowded around, eyeing the scene with amusement and lazy detachment, not a single soul willing to break up the fight.

Great, just when I had managed to steal some alone time to wallow in the despair of my teenage angst, some stupid prat decided to pick a fight with Señor Greaso. Judging from the intensity of Snape's voice, I could only assume that the boy had criticized the greasy state of his inky mane. If I were born a great liar, I would say that this comment was unfair and unjust.

However, as those darn French say, _ce la vie, cherí! _

Fluffing out my hair and straightening my badge, I commanded my most dignified stride and marched over to the small circus. I didn't have too much difficulty breaking through the mob, as many spectators warily observed from a few feet back, in order to avoid contact with a soaring spit ball.

Feeling much like a haggard mother, I stood in front of the two boys, watching them with bored authority.

"All right, what seems to be the problem?" I demanded.

Snape didn't move his body, but flashed his eyes in my vicinity. The coarse animosity that radiated from his general demeanor failed to decrease, though I wasn't intimidated. Alice once told me that dear old Snape fancied me, way back in fourth year.

Thus, he bought me a Christmas gift; I don't exactly remember what it was, but I'm recalling some sort of jewelry chest. Anyway, out of the kindness of my heart, I bought him this nice shampoo and conditioner set. I don't think he appreciated the present, because ever since then, he's hated me as much (though not nearly) as Ja-I mean _Potter._

"Mind your own business, Evans, if you know what's good for you," Señor Greaso thundered, without losing his signature drawl.

A few bystanders murmured with wonder, anticipating my defense.

I rolled my eyes and studied Snape's wiry victim. I faintly recognized him, a Patrick something or other. He absolutely worshiped The Marauders like an alcoholic worships a big glass of Bourbon. Each year, it seemed he adopted a different identity of this unofficial gang. Last year he was clearly channeling the spirit of Remus; he could always be seen wandering around campus with his pointy nose smashed against the pages of some obscure novel.

This year, I was positive that he decided to ditch the scholarly costume and embody organized anarchy. His normally sandy colored hair had been dyed jet black and was unusually long, curling at the back of his neck like some sort of furry python. His wand was lazily sticking out of his back pocket, having totally disregarded the standard robe for dark slacks and a tattered, cotton T-shirt. His brown eyes cuddled behind round, wire frames and non-prescription lenses.

This Patrick something or other had been running around, thinking he was paying homage to James Potter. Although the attire was eerily accurate, I inwardly laughed. No one could become James Potter, despite the extensive research or the back-breaking effort.

How could an imposter capture that discreet dimple, waving behind the smooth fold of his right cheek? And how could a poser steal that laugh in his eye or the confident allure in his gait?

There could only be one James Potter and that's all the world really needed.

"Well, Snape, seeing as how I _am_ Head Girl, your little tête-à-tête has become my business. I suggest that you step away from the sixth year," I gravely retorted.

Patrick-What's-His-Face turned to gaze at me with alarm, as though I had landed in a helicopter, wearing a bunny suit. He shot me a grateful smile and I could immediately tell that his macho-persona was wearing thin. Snape refused to relinquish his hold on Patrick, a sneer easily adorning his lips, bright and commanding attention against the washed-out pallor of his skin.

You know, honestly. The things I have to put up with, just because I got this piece of tin! Sometimes I feel more like a baby-sitter, rather than a powerful figure of higher education and learning.

"Sod off, you useless Mudblood!"

At this, the entire crowd was slammed with silence, as the world itself seemed to halt. Pure rage battled raw grief, as the significance of the insult resonated within my ears, echoing and vibrating like the ripples of an earthquake. Throughout my seventeen years of existence, I had been thrown countless abuses, whether it pertain to my character or my appearance.

However, I could count on my hand the number of times I my integrity had been slandered with such an ill remark, all of which had generated from the Slytherin House. Though I had learned to develop a thick armor to such dim-witted prejudice, it had never fully diverted the spear; I always winced at its imploding contact.

To have such a disrespected person like Snape hastily pull out a cheap shot, in front of all my peers, not only undermined my authority but scorched my pride. I clenched down on my jaw, all lessons of lady-like decorum flying out the window from a passing train. Ha, just because I was Head Girl didn't mean I couldn't play dirty!

Extricating myself from my humiliation and melancholy, I assumed the rigid role of The Ice Queen.

"You know, I bet you're quite upset because…Patrick made a passing remark concerning your personal hygiene. Now, under normal circumstances, I'd agree that such an insult was unjust. However, I have to say…Patrick's right. Nobody expects to walk away from a conversation drenched in grease!"

At this, the crowd gasped, shocked that an individual with my squeaky clean, "totalitarian" reputation could utter such a cut-throat response. I mean, it was expected that I would showcase this side of my personality when bickering with Potter. However, many had only witnessed my mean streak solely reserved for the aforementioned imbecile.

Oh well, you ain't seen nothing yet, my dears! But once they recovered from their horror, the laughter hastily roared. Ah yes, smart and a comedic genius? I tell you, I'm simply amazing! Naturally, the few Slytherins that had bothered to stop were jeering at my mere presence. But just for the record, they were in the minority.

Snape peered at his peers, flustered and irritated, fully knowing that he'd lost his edge. Snape released Patrick from his death-grip and with a squeak, the puny sixth-year scampered away, fading into the crowd like socks that have been bleached too many times.

Señor Greaso advanced towards me, his fingers affectionately and tensely curling around his wand. I probably should have felt some breed of fear, but I just thought that the whole endeavor was hilarious. And to think, I used to feel bad for him. It seems that my charities are totally undeserved upon people that bring the misfortune to themselves.

"Hold your tongue, Evans. I don't see Potter or the rest of his goons coming to your rescue!"

I chuckled, turning my nose up at him like a snobby socialite.

"Excuse me, but I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, you dolt! Haven't you heard of women's lib?"

Snape shook his head, my smart-aleck debate sending his simmering rage to a full-out boil.

"Why you little-"

He was about to complete his curse with a spell, but he was interrupted by an invading yet readily recognizable voice.

"_LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!"_

At this, my supporters cheered and laughed with wonder, as Snape fell to the ground, as stiff and unyielding as a board of wood. I didn't even need to turn around to thank (or scold, you choose) my unexpected hero.

"Oy, Evans! Good thing I was just passing by, eh? Snivellus looked like he was going to rub his hair on your face," Potter brazenly exclaimed.

I sighed and whirled around, feeling much like a sideshow exposition. Now that the attention had drifted from Snape vs. Me, it had concentrated on Me vs. Potter. This was a match-up that any Hogwarts student wouldn't dare miss.

"I had the situation under control, Potter. Now take that blasted curse off him; you had nothing to do with this," I firmly insisted.

Potter frowned, strolling over and flashing a rogue, yet winning smile. The ground beneath our feet vibrated considerably, as a few clumsy second-years fainted with glee.

"Aw, c'mon, Evans. It's all in the name of fun," Potter silkily drawled, poking the frozen Snape with the end of his wand.

I rolled my eyes. As an afterthought, Potter inspected his wand and then wiped it with his robe.

"For once, just do what I say, Potter. You've already proven that your ego has swelled to the size of a watermelon."

Potter chuckled and threw his arm around my shoulder.

"Fine, fine. No need to get hostile."

He muttered the countercurse and Snape sprang to his feet, his mouth attempting to keep up with the slew of creative insults that formed in his head. Potter slowly focused his eyes on Snape, and then issued a cruel sneer that lost his incipient attitude of jovial content.

"But before this conversation comes to a close, Snivellus I must advise you that you should really get a belt for those pants!"

And before I could even blink, Snape's charcoal trousers slipped to the ground like melted butter, his open robes exposing black boxers with pink hearts. The buzz of the crowd speedily evolved into obnoxious, side-splitting laughter. Snape's already pale face adapted an ashen undertone and he broke into a lopsided run, clutching his pants in one hand and his wand in the other.

Realizing that Potter's tentacles were still squeezing my shoulders, I shook myself free and glared. It was one thing to defend my own honor, but it was downright unnecessary to add further humiliation. I didn't ask Potter to step in and play my pseudo-Knight In Shining Armor. He thought that I was impressed with this little show; I was more so disgusted.

"You disgust me," I seethed, backing up a few paces.

A few people snickered but despite the weak smirk plastered on his face, Potter was crestfallen.

"Lily. C'mon Lily, it was just a joke," he pressed, eager for my approval.

I shook my head and maneuvered through the crowd, heading back the way I came. A few minutes after I escaped from Potter, I bumped into Sirius. His hair was wind-blown, dancing in clumps over his eyes, that Peter Pan quality I had initially been mystified by, using the present environment to unapologetically shine.

"Just saw Old Snivellus scamper into the castle with his pants round his ankles. That daft grease ball; I bet my right leg that Prongs had something to do with it," he theorized with a wistful smile.

I shrugged, not caring to launch into an explanation. With practiced ease, Sirius glided his arm around waist, slowly guiding me back to the castle. Without protest, I gently placed my head on his shoulder, my ginger locks caressing his cheek, cascading like a curtain.

I pondered the way the curve of my cheek fit like a puzzle piece, the way his fingers fluttered against my hip. We were almost perfect. I shut my eyes, carrying our casual conversation, responding when a question had been asked.

But when my vision settled into its blanket of make-shift twilight, I couldn't shake the rich image of James Potter, holding me in his arms like a china doll, his eyes more so honey than chocolate, exploding with terror at the thought of love's labor lost.


	13. Narcissus Off Duty

"Say, what seems to be eating you, Lily?"

I had stumbled into the common room on a rather dreary Monday night, assuming that most of my peers had dragged themselves to the confinement of their dormitories, losing to their strenuous fatigue. As usual, my tabulation of luck had appeared too late and too short.

Audrey and Remus were cuddled on the couch, enjoying the warmth of the ceaseless fire, like any other normal couple. On the contrary, my situation was far from normal and I certainly did not uphold the patience or the humor to entertain such a conflicting image.

All I wanted was to be left alone and stew in the muck of my own frustration and sorrow. It's exceptionally annoying when you search high and low for a place to hang your head, but you're only met with two sets of identical smiles that could have appeared in a bloody toothpaste advertisement. I didn't immediately respond and practically heaved myself into the vacant armchair, uneasily melting into the worn cushions like an army of dust.

I had managed to avoid James for the rest of the weekend. Since I was aware that he would even go to such great lengths to claim a Lily Evans Expedition in the library, I knew that my dorm was the only suitable haven. I spent most of the time studying or catching up on my reading, much to Audrey's horror. That is, she was horrified when she wasn't sucking face with Remus.

"Uh oh, looks like someone's a little grumpy," Audrey teased.

With distress, I shoved my arms over my chest and scowled. Is my life so obnoxiously hilarious that everyone obeys the impulse to make a mockery of my pain? What have I become? A one-woman comedy tour? I tell you, one minute I want to give my friends a big hug and the very next minute, I'd love nothing more than ringing their necks. I mean…that doesn't sound psychotic, now does it? Right. Good.

"Let me guess, James sent you another singing telegram that commented about the lovely way your face gets red and shiny when he calls you darling?" Remus prodded.

Oh yes, I know everyone believes that Mr. Lupin is just this innocent, doe-eyed intellectual, but the boy has a well-hidden sadistic streak. And unfortunately, I am always the victim of this masochistic indulgence.

"Sod off, Lupin," I snarled.

Audrey's laughter effortlessly glided over the hostility of my demand.

"No, no, even better! He got down on one knee and proposed and then pretended to have a good cry when you rejected him? If that's the case, maybe you'd better go hide in a broom closet. Last time those rabid second years pelted you with dung bombs, the smell didn't come out for weeks!"

I rolled my eyes, assuming my role of the "angst-ridden, sullen child" while Audrey and Remus continued to play the part of the backstabbing friends.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up your knuckleheads. But this is a serious issue. James has gone from love-sick adoration to leech-like endangerment to my social and romantic life! How is my relationship with Sirius supposed to progress, when Potter can't resist sticking his fat head into the picture?" I wailed.

Remus sighed.

"Lily, honestly. How many times have we been through this? James is never going to stop pursuing you. No matter what you say or what you do, I'm pretty sure that the torch he carries for you could withstand any natural disaster, let alone your hatred. Jeez, I think that you'd at least accept that by now. Especially when you smacked the poor sod in the face with your textbook, gave him a lovely black eye and then the very next day, he sent you two-dozen roses!"

My practiced pout didn't even twitch.

"But all that banter was just standard routine. I'm a taken woman now, off the market! Potter keeps trying to act like my boyfriend, when I've already got one! I just want him to leave me alone. For good. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Audrey pursed lips signaled the boiling of a slow lecture.

"Well, Miss Independent, if you're so gung-ho about your liberty, why are you letting this whole James Potter thing bother you? If you _truly_ didn't care, you'd let it slide. Besides, like you've frequently mentioned, you've got Sirius. James must have really done something to get under your skin, since you're obsessing over him," she analyzed, with a snake-like smile.

What a traitor. Pfft. Me? Obsess over that silly twit James Potter? Excuse me, but I think that it's the other way around! I mean, granted, I _was_ trapped in a broom closet with the bloke for little under an hour; perhaps that nerve-wracking experience has tampered with my senses and thrown my entire biological makeup out of whack.

Yes, that's it. I've been traumatized by James Potter and his oh-so-kissable—er….maybe I'd just better let that train of thought run off the tracks.

"I am **not** obsessing over that piece of pond scum! Both of you are totally blowing the situation out of proportion. I'm at the end of my rope, guys. The least you could do is offer some words of moral support! It's the least you could do, especially when I've been such a reliable, compassionate friend."

I pointedly turned to Remus, who could already tell that I was about to strike with a comical yet embarrassingly false revelation of an unwanted character flaw.

"Now Remus, old boy. When you confessed that you still, on rare occasion, wet the bed, who promised to guard your secret?"

Audrey, who had been perched on the said culprit's lap, silently yet fastidiously slithered off her post and maneuvered a few inches down the couch. Remus automatically matched the golden glow of the flames, the usual pallor of his cheeks destroyed by the oncoming blossom of magenta and marigold. Naturally, I was bluffing, but his ego had surely taken a nosedive.

Ah, don't worry Remus. You're not the only target on my list.

"And Audrey. When you came to me, in a fit of despair, who gave you that wart removal cream, because you were too embarrassed to head off to the infirmary?"

Audrey's mouth threatened to scrape the carpet and Remus, relieved that the heat had been directed away from his vanity, snickered with constrained amusement. At this snort, Audrey whipped her head to Remus, absolutely livid. Remus fumbled to control his violation of relationship etiquette and cleared his throat, mumbling a half-hearted apology.

I let a sluggish, yet charming smile adapt to the creases of my mouth. Folding my hands and interlacing my fingers, I shifted in my chair like an aristocrat.

"So you see, Miss Grant and Mr. Lupin, all I'm requesting is your empathy and a small boost of confidence. Is that such a small thing to ask for?"

Needles to say, both Audrey and Remus retired to their separate staircases without as much as a goodnight handshake.

---------------------

The following day, my personal rain cloud of doom retained its direct position over my head. It was like Potter's rescue mission acted as the catalyst to the destruction of my own world. I headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, just like any other morning. However, something putrid clung to the air and it wasn't Malfoy's Imported Parisian cologne.

I spotted Sirius smack dab in the middle of the long table, cackling with his mouth open about something or another. Potter was on his left side, gazing mournfully into his porridge, his wand twirling above the spoon, as the utensil self-reliantly spun. Peter was sitting across from James, his head bent over a roll of parchment, presumably last night's homework. Audrey and Remus sat across from Sirius; Audrey wearing a blinding grin, while Remus darkly glowered. Seems I had found Sirius's source of jest.

Anyway, I waltzed over to the group with a little extra spring in my step, all ready to claim my space next to Sirius. However, before I could even set down my book bag, Sirius spotted my flaming hair, promptly stopped laughing, sloppily ushered an excuse and then bolted out of his seat and through the door.

Feeling like I'd been socked in the gut, I occupied my boyfriend's previous spot, reaching for a new plate, though I had no real intentions of gobbling a hearty meal. Remus was the first to formally address my bewilderment.

"Uh…Sirius said he left something behind in his room. Said don't bother to wait for him, or you'll be late to class."

I faintly nodded, as though my head were too cumbersome for my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I clearly witnessed Remus and Audrey exchange a furtive "look," which can only be translated into "That-Poor-Girl-It's-A-Shame-We-Can't-Tell-Her-What-We-Know."

And as anyone knows, those are the worst kind of clandestine messages. It's like when your Great Aunt Sally comes down for the annual Family Reunion and she eagerly asks every living soul in the room if she's lost weight. In reality, she's as monstrous as ever, but no one will admit this, so poor Aunt Sally takes a second helping of the Dutch Apple Pie.

My eyes went out of focus, as I wondered if there was any truth in the presented explanation. I was so lost in thought that I failed to realize that James had been chatting like a cannery in my deaf ear, until I felt my hand assertively coax his pencil-neck into his soggy porridge.


	14. The Importance Of Being Earnest

**A/N: **Well, after about a year of not even touching this story, I felt bad and decided it was time for an immediate update! I apologize for the long delay and I hope there's at least **one** person out there, who hasn't forgotten about this story! It will be finished one day, I promise you that. When? Well, I'm afraid I can't give you an exact date. However, you've got my word that it WILL be finished!

* * *

Ah, to be young and in love. Who knew what it could do for one's complexion? I daresay, many of my peers have commented on the radiant, youthful exuberance of my newly refined features. Hmm, so maybe it would be unfair and inaccurate to say that this energy directly correlates to feelings of love. I don't know _what_ I should exactly call it, but I know it's more than a passing fancy. I thought Sirius was acting rather peculiar a few days ago, but my suspicions have been cleared. It seems I'm just paranoid. Although, when in appropriate context, I think I was rather justified.

Moving along, I was in the library when Sirius approached. This was surprising, considering that Sirius rarely set foot in the library. He would need a lot of motivation to enter on his free will. I had a test in Herbology that week. A gargantuan stack of books patiently rested by my elbow. I'd sought seclusion in the back of the room, coveting an empty desk and chair. On my lap was an impressive leather-bound book, which evoked flurries of dust whenever I turned the pages. Very few voices resounded throughout the room, as the majority of students were engrossed in their work. I was deeply lost in thought, my eyes boring into the page.

A lanky finger jabbed my shoulder and I strangled a gasp. I was initially frightened that I would whip around to meet Potter, but relief surfaced. It was Sirius, hovering over the desk, complete with a lopsided grin. As you already know, our relationship has allowed me to become quite familiar with his assortment of grins. I've evolved into a semi-expert when it calls for interpreting the classifications of Sirius Black's grins. He's got that semi-dashing, half-smirk when he's about to crack a joke and expects my appreciation. He's also got that uneasy, perturbed grin when he's been caught red-handed. The one that he was issuing at the moment didn't call for alarm, though it contained an underbelly of hesitation.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, love?" he wondered.

I nodded, promptly closing my book and carefully placing it on the pile.

"Go ahead."

Sirius looked around the room and then spotted another chair, a few feet down. Another desk and chair set had been arranged at the other end of the room. I watched with budding curiosity, as he strolled towards his target and then haphazardly tossed it over his shoulder. I giggled as he planted the chair next to me. He sprawled onto the chair, my thigh brushing against his knee. I wondered if other people were looking at us and I realized the unpredictability of this year, how one day I'd gone from Bumbling and Blushing Admirer, to Certified Girlfriend.

When I was ten, a year before I'd come to Hogwarts, but well aware that I was different, I'd been embarrassingly smitten with Lawrence Spencer. He was a boy at my (muggle) school, who was sort of awkward, with gangly limbs like lima beans. His mother cut his hair and his shoes always shone with polish, even trainers. He was always getting nose-bleeds in the middle of lessons; the school nurse had memorized his home phone number by the second week.

While the other girls in my grade pursued the Class Clown or Trouble Maker, I fiercely defended my crush on Lawrence Spencer, convinced that we'd get married and live in a glass castle, because Lawrence always complained that he was allergic to the mold in wood. Thank goodness I'd been asked to attend Hogwarts and developed better taste! However, according to James Potter, I haven't changed at all.

"I want to ask you something," he hesitantly began.

I rose an eyebrow, hoping I would appear cool and collected. Despite my limited knowledge of relationships and the inner workings of the male mind, I knew that commencing a sentence with these words were both ominous and a set-up for something far from pleasurable.

"Yes?"

He chuckled, as though it were a suitable distraction from his forthcoming words. He swiped a piece of hair out of his eyes, squirming a bit, as though someone had dropped a worm down his trousers.

"Well, Winter Break is coming up soon. And I know this may seem a bit too soon, since our relationship is considerably new, but I was wondering, if you didn't mind, if you wanted to perhaps…spend the holiday with me?"

My eyes widened and I quickly processed my thoughts, so Sirius wouldn't assume that my silence signified rejection. Well, this wasn't the earth-shattering news I was anticipating! Usually, in the context of ordinary circumstances, such news wouldn't contain a delightful proposition. But then again, why should I associate "ordinary" with Sirius Black? There was nothing ordinary about Sirius Black; to connect this word with his name would be slanderous.

Before I could control my own emotions, I'd flung my body into his arms. We nearly stumbled onto the floor, chair and all, but Sirius gained his balance. I pressed my cheek into the side of his face, feeling the corners of his mouth tug into a relieved and ecstatic smile. I should have generated a laundry list of anxieties, especially concerning the reactions of parental authorities. On the contrary, I kissed him.

"Oh Sirius, do you mean it?" I asked, desiring further reassurance.

He laughed, his arms clasped around my waist. I shifted around, so I was perched on his lap and not about to tumble to the concrete. This time, I KNEW there had to be students peering at us with interest, but I didn't care.

"So I'm taking this reaction as a yes?"

I nodded, grinning foolishly.

"Take it as more than a yes, take it as an _abso-bloody-lutely_ yes," I affirmed.

If I lacked any inhibitions, I probably would have leapt from his arms like a ballerina and started doing pirouettes or some sort of dance. I didn't think my parents would cause much of a fuss. Certainly, my Mum would automatically protest, stressing the importance of family during the holidays. But I was 98.9 positive that I could persuade her to rethink the decision. My Dad, not one to favor making waves, would surely follow my Mum. Old Weedy (Petunia) wouldn't fight for my presence.

Come to think of it, she'd probably throw a party. And on the plus side, it would be rather relaxing to spend a few weeks away from her. She's still terrified of me and harbors all of these ridiculous stereotypes that are connected with being a witch. However, she's figured out that I can't conduct magic while at home. Thus, any sort of threat to hex her elicits fear, but it lacks any permanent stronghold. We don't even do that much during Christmas Hols anyway.

On X-Mas Eve, we went to some Aunt or Uncle's house; Mum and Dad would mix and mingle, while I was left to the mercy of some snooty cousin. Petunia would steer clear of me, glued to our Cousin Ethel's side. Ethel was two years older than Petunia and me; she owned some sort of beauty salon in London.

Ethel normally wore obnoxiously loud and disastrous outfits to these functions, which earned a coo of approval from my daft sister. No, I wouldn't be missing out this year. I'd gathered that Sirius wasn't painfully close to his family and on the whole, the Blacks weren't going to win any congeniality awards in the future. However, I was willing to overlook this and have faith in Sirius. Besides, I had the feeling that we'd be spending much more of our time out of the house than inside.

"Wicked."

We kissed again, right there in the library. And although particles of dust had superstitiously crept up my nostrils and I still had to study for that blasted test, the moment seemed oddly and fittingly romantic. It appeared that a declaration of love would also accompany such a leap in commitment, but deep down, I didn't feel comfortable saying those three words.

Later that night, as we headed up to the dorms, I told Audrey about the offer in the library. She clutched my arm and squealed, nearly knocking me off the stairs. Merlin, for such a tiny girl, you'd think it would have the same affect on her excitement levels. Her voice increased an octave, as she relished in this development.

"Lily, this is monumental! This is brilliant! Did you hear me, brilliant!" she screeched. She added a little jig to this exhibition of bliss and I laughed.

I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it about, wincing as though I'd just put my eardrum up to an exceptionally deafening speaker. I found it rather amusing that my best friend's initial reaction was even more boisterous than my own. Was that a bad thing? Ah, no harm in it. I just worry too much, that's all. Silly Evans, lamenting about useless nonsense again.

"I heard you the first time."

We continued to barge up the stairs, contemplating appropriate outfit choices for my extended stay.

* * *

The next day, I was reminded that with the arrival of something good, something bad proceeds. Or rather, I was reminded that Fate or whoever is in control up there, likes screwing around with the unfolding events of my life, because I seem to be His favorite plaything. I was sitting in Potions, minding my own business, skimming the chapter in discussion, while corresponding with Remus. Our Professor had paired us together again, a decision that I didn't mind in the least. In the background, Peter and James were snickering, no doubt amusing themselves about the conception of a talking toilet or some ridiculous fantasy. Sirius hadn't come down to breakfast; Remus told me that he'd stayed in bed, moaning about terrible stomach pains. I suspected that he was doing one of the three things:

* * *

A) Telling the truth _(HA!)_

B) Faking deathly illness in order to finish the five page essay due at the end of class _(Most likely)_

C) Really telling the truth, but then remembered that he didn't finish his essay and therefore was technically lying, because his procrastination equaled the reason for his bed-ridden distress, and not the cramps themselves _(The best possible answer)_

* * *

Because Remus is a more often than not, a wiser person than myself, and due to his additional insight to said boyfriend's line of rationale, I decided to inform him about my holiday plans.

* * *

_Remus,_

_Has Sirius ever asked a girl to come home with him for Christmas Hols????_

_-Lily_

* * *

Remus scrawled something in his precise calligraphy, glanced upward to ensure the success of interception, and then shoved the paper into my hand. Our Professor was yapping at the blackboard, rattling off a list of Latin nomenclatures that sounded more like gibberish.

* * *

_L,_

_Absolutely not. I do believe you're the first girl that this has ever happened to! _

_Take that as a good sign. I'm quite surprised James hasn't said anything. When he finds out, I'm sure you'll have to deal with his temper. Take this as a warning in advance._

_R_

* * *

I was about to write back, when I heard my name. I snapped my head to the front of the class and sheepishly grinned. Professor Slughorn had shouted my name, finally noticing that I'd been distracted. I felt my classmates rigidly staring at me; a few satisfied that the Head Girl had been caught red-handed in an act of punishable disruption.

"Yes Professor Slughorn?" I meekly wondered.

With furrowed eyebrows, he pointed to a daunting equation. He rapped his knuckles below the formula, disappointment clouding his eyes. My heart sunk with embarrassment, though I didn't allow the humiliation to color my face. Without meaning to, I observed that James and Peter had stopped talking.

"Can you please tell me what potion this formula yields?"

Silence flooded my ears, my palms slightly perspiring. I studied the equation, flipping through my mental archives with lightening speed. I had already read our potions book from cover to cover, yet nothing stood out. The unwanted attention from my peers did not alleviate my stress, only reinforcing the steely gaze of my Professor.

I bit my lip, praying that Remus would speak up or perhaps slip the answer into my palm. This was truly humiliating. I, Lily Evans, didn't know the answer. Under all normal circumstances, caught off guard or not, I would have spat out the solution, shooting off extraneous information to boot. I could hear the ticking of the clock as though a drummer were pounding in the center of my head.

"Uh, I…"

"Well? What is the answer, Miss Evans?" Professor Slughorn persisted.

"Hey. Hey, Evans, look at your parchment," a familiar voice hissed into my ear.

Too panic-stricken to question the credentials of the speaker, I obediently looked down. In boxy script, someone's wand had scribbled: AFRICAN NIGHTSHADE. I met Professor Slughorn's eyes and forced out a shaky smile.

"Yes, I've got it now. The formula makes African Nightshade," I cautiously revealed.

Professor Slughorn crowed with contentment, clasping his hands together.

"Very good, Miss Evans! I see someone has been doing her homework. Five points to Gryffindor. But next time, Miss Evans, please pay more attention. I know you're excited to read ahead, but please stay with us."

Some of my classmates snickered and my cheeks burned strawberry.

"Yes. Certainly, Professor," I modestly replied.

Slughorn went back to speaking, his mood buoyant, now that I'd (falsely) proved my commitment to academics. I scribbled a note of gratitude to Remus. He opened it, frowned, and then wrote back.

* * *

_Lily,_

_I'm sorry to say, but I was too late to come to your rescue. You should be thanking James, not me._

* * *

I could only stare at the words until they blurred together.

After class, I waited for James. Yes, even writing it down makes me slightly queasy. But, I couldn't let this good deed go unnoticed. And, most importantly, I wanted to know why Potter had felt the need to throw down a ladder, figuratively speaking. Of course, I could conjure a plausible conclusion, based on past experience. But all things considered, I was curious. Curious enough to go to the source himself. I said goodbye to Remus and then leaned against the wall, lazily watching my classmates file out of the room. James and Peter were the last to leave. James was in the middle of telling a joke and Peter was hanging onto his words, eyes wide with idolatry.

"Psst. Potter. Potter!" I snapped.

James stopped entertaining Peter and looked in my direction. We locked eyes and he issued a sort of funny half-smile, as though sincerely bewildered. His eyes lacked their usual sparkle of childish mischief.

"I'll catch you later, Peter."

"But James, what-"

"I'll meet you in the common room. Just give me a few minutes," he gently interrupted.

Peter sighed, as though he'd just parted with a bag of gold. With slumped shoulders, he left. When Peter was a good three feet away, I focused my attention on Potter. I adjusted the textbook tucked under my armpit and straightened my spine.

"I just wanted to say thank you."

I was met with another dosage of bamboozlement.

"For what?" he asked.

"C'mon, don't play games. For saving me in class today. You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged, radiating humility that seemed to belong to another person. In all the years I'd known him; humble was not a proper adjective to describe James Potter. Loud, obnoxious, and arrogant were fine words to summarize his personality, but humility did not belong.

"Hey, don't even mention it. I didn't want you to feel embarrassed. Remus would have helped you anyway. I just beat him to it."

I laughed to cover my uneasiness.

"I suppose so."

An awkward silence conquered the brief discourse. I looked at the floor and cleared my throat. Why was it so difficult to speak to him without the fuel of fury?

"Well. I assume you're heading back to the common room," James tentatively began.

I nodded, suddenly shy.

"You've assumed correctly."

"Do you mind if I walk with you? I'm headed the same way," he explained.

I shrugged, knowing that there wasn't any reason to reject his request. We began walking side by side. The hallways were practically barren, as the majority of students were either still in class, or had reached their next destination. I felt awfully uncomfortable, although we weren't that close. I wondered why a sudden surge of tension contaminated the atmosphere. I was just walking with James, nothing more to it. We passed a window; the afternoon sun teetered in the skyline, though you could tell the temperature remained on the chilly side.

With a cluck of disapproval, I shifted my book again. I studied James and a tiny gasp escaped my mouth.

"What?"

"Your…hair!"

He lifted a hand to his head, frowning.

"What? What about it?" he pressed, alarmed and confused.

"It's…not messy!"

It was quite a shock. For practically seven years, I'd grown to loathe the sight of Potter's bed head, tufts of wild, jet-black hair angrily jutting out of his scalp like a bunch of feathers on a quill. James took great pride in this disheveled appearance; last year it'd been so long, pieces slouched over his eyes like wet jeans on a clothesline. However, in the present, his hair had been, dare I say it, _combed_ and _slicked back_ with a noticeable amount of pomade. He looked like a different person. It was like he'd added a certain degree of maturity to his face, so that his cheeks and his jaw seemed more distinct, evoking a sense of renewed masculinity.

James laughed, hand falling to his side.

"Oh, is that it? Yeah. I guess not. I don't know. It kept getting in the way during Qudditich practice. Bloody annoying, having to always push it out of my eyes. Especially when I'm trying to avoid a Bludger hoping to rearrange my face."

I cracked a smile.

"Well, I'm glad that you finally followed my advice and bought a brush," I teased.

Potter grinned.

"I should have listened to you sooner."

Judging from his tone alone, I knew he was flirting. And yet, I didn't mind. The impulse to adopt a suit of armor and an acid tongue failed to ignite. Granted, I'd prefer it a lot more if he didn't flirt, seeing as how I was dating his best mate. On the contrary, I wanted to continue the conversation with James, because I knew this sort of light-hearted dialogue was something rare, something worth prolonging. Was I really going to spend the rest of my seventh year bickering with James Potter, simply out of tradition? It seemed that this tradition was changing and morphing into another beast of burden.

"Lily."

My shoes clicked on the smooth floor.

"What?"

"Sirius really fancies you," he stated, without a hint of jealousy and less dismay than I thought appropriate.

"I know."

"No, I mean, he's absolutely mad about you. Kind of funny, actually. I've known Sirius for seven years now. To hear someone like that go on and on about a girl is mind-boggling. But then again, you're not just _any_ girl. You're Lily Evans, so I suppose that's part of the trick," James pensively noted.

I rose an eyebrow, our pace having decreased. Did I just imagine that, or did we both understand that the slower we walked, the more time that allowed for the continuation of our current activity?

"Oh, stop it. It has nothing to do with me; it's all about chemistry. If I was someone else, but Sirius had the same sort of, well, you know, _zing_ with her, then that would be that," I sternly argued.

James shook his head, laughing.

"_Zing? _Is that what you call it?"

"Yeah! What's the problem? It's all the same thing, just a different name. That _zing_. Attraction. Magic. That's why they say opposites attract. People gravitate towards other individuals that mirror themselves, yes. But on the other hand, when you fall for someone, when you _really_ fall for someone, sparks usually fly when interests clash."

"And you think that works in the long run?" James intently interrogated.

"For the most part, absolutely. If marriage is supposed to be forever, why would you want to spend the rest of your life with your clone? Wouldn't you want to be challenged, to avoid boredom? I mean, of _course_ you can't pick someone who is so drastically opposite that you end up despising one another. Change is nice, in small dosages, that is. Too much becomes like a poison too quickly."

I couldn't believe I was opening up to James. We were having a normal conversation. He was listening. I was speaking without screaming. Had I stepped into an alternate universe?

"Jeez Lily, I knew you were smart. But I had no idea your intelligence spanned such a broad scope. Any other hidden talents or wisdom you want to reveal? Can you say, juggle fire? Jump through a flaming hoop? Cook a mean cheesecake?"

I laughed, really laughed. And it felt unusual to laugh in the company of James, as though I'd forgotten how to do so and had momentarily rediscovered the action.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not hiding anything else. I can't cook to save my life. Cereal, I can do. Even macaroni and cheese from a box. Besides, who needs to learn how to cook? Culinary arts is just a fancy word for magic. Give me a wand and I can whip up the cheesecake of your dreams," I joked.

"Aw, that's cheating. And cheating is an immoral misdemeanor I'd never associate with Lily Evans!"

I rolled my eyes, increasingly aware that our walk would soon end.

"It's not cheating. It's ensuring your safety. Forget an Unforgivable Curse. Eat something I've baked and you're likely to fall over dead."

"Hmm, is that a bona fide promise? If so, maybe I should start sending over your baked goods before matches. Put it in a nice basket with a fancy card. The other team wouldn't suspect a thing!" James schemed.

I laughed and James grinned, glad to have won my approval and appreciation.

"By the way, are you going to this weekend's Qudditich match?" he interjected.

I halted. We were hovering in front of the common room entrance. The Fat Lady waited. My head hummed with possible answers, my caution springing to life. James smirked, though it wasn't intended for mockery.

"Don't worry; I'm not trying to hit on you or anything. I was just wondering, because it's an important game. And I'd really like the majority of our House show up, if that's possible. It's against Slytherin. It's going to determine who will compete in the Cup Tournament. Sirius told me he was going, Remus too."

I filled in the blanks, though I wasn't entirely positive that the reiteration of his rationale equaled his true motivation for inquiry.

"Ah, and so because we're both the respected girlfriends of said blokes…"

"Correct. See? Perfectly casual question. No misleading undertones whatsoever."

I laughed, though I was more worried than before. With James Potter, there were always undertones. Always. And the fact that he'd stressed that such devices had vanished, deemed even more of just cause to panic.


End file.
